


The Thousand Mile Road

by Imogen_Penn



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/pseuds/Imogen_Penn
Summary: Cara Dune made the choice to stay on Nevarro, and every choice is a step forward.Where her choices are taking her? That's much harder to know. She's not even sure she knows where she wants to end up. All she knows is that choosing other people comes with rewards, but also great risks, and she's not sure that the risks are worth it.* Title taken from the Book of Five Rings, Myamoto Musashi (1645)
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune / Din Djarin, Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 322
Kudos: 237





	1. Where You Live

**Author's Note:**

> This work picks up immediately following Episode 8 of the Mandalorian. While I pull from existing Star Wars Universe canon (as well as the now non-canonical books), I am making no attempt at strict adherence :)

It ain't dying I'm talking about, it's living. I doubt it matters where you die, but it matters where you live."

\--Robert Duvall as Gus McCrae in "Lonesome Dove"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

She watched his shape disappear, staring into the sooty sky until she could no longer make him out, her eyes straining into the hazy sunlight.

It had only been a matter of hours from the time they had knocked on the door of the Imps’ stronghold on Nevarro to now, but she felt like she’d lived six lifetimes.

It was over. But the familiar exhaustion of adrenaline leaving and relief sinking in wasn’t coming. She could feel something clawing at her chest, an ache that only grew, even though the tension of the fight was long over.

Greef was blessedly silent as they made their way back to town in a speeder. It gave her a chance to sort through her thoughts.

She wasn’t, as a rule, particularly self-reflective, so it was like trying to turn a rusted gear, her thoughts stalling out, getting stuck.

 _It’s just like a debrief_ , she told herself. _Start with the first thing you remember clearly._

When was the last moment that things were clear? She remembered things being clear on Sorgan, even after he had arrived the first time. Fighting was clear. Training was clear. Alight with adrenaline, blaster bolts streaking past, keyed into the man beside her like their minds were linked; that was clear.

Things were still clear after he left. He had a job for her, they did it. They did it well. They got to enjoy their success for a while; him by skirting around the edges of Omera’s life, her by enjoying the spotchka and watching whatever dance it was those two were doing.

A pointless one, as it turned out.

Who knows what might have come without the bounty hunter’s arrival. Didn’t really pay to consider it, as far as she was concerned. Can’t change the past.

It was an end. He wasn’t looking to make a friend, exchange holos, swing by Sorgan for a visit. He hadn’t wanted an escort back to his ship. He was leaving to disappear somewhere with the kid.

She was sure, in that moment, that she would never see him again.

It was disappointing. It had been a long time since she’d felt that kind of connection in a fight. There was something addictive about it.

She was also relieved. She wasn’t lying to him when she said she wanted to lay low. She was trying to learn to live again after the war. Running jobs with a Mandalorian would have been counterproductive.

But then he came back. She said she didn’t want to play soldier and she meant it. She was working on learning to be something else again. But the past is hard to let go of, and the kid was sickeningly cute, and something rushed red and hot behind her eyes when he told her who the target was, straining to be unleashed against the Imps.

So, counterproductive or not, she had gone. Maybe it wasn’t the right choice, but she had made it, and that was that. Can’t un-ring a bell.

Anyways, she would never really have felt right sending him off alone into something like this. He could be quiet, hard to understand, she supposed, if you couldn’t read the tilt of his head or the set of his shoulders. She found that she could read him just fine.

He would have tried to do this on his own. And he would have failed.

No one deserved that, and he was something more than no one. It was easy to share space with him, she liked his dry sort of humor, and he kept her on her toes, even though she totally would have had him in that arm wrestle if the kid hadn’t…

A chill shot up her spine as she relived the memory. She knew the kid hadn’t known what he was doing, not really. She and Mando were both competitive and focused. How was the kid supposed to know the difference between the tension of a real life and death fight from a good contest?

The power that the kid had, though…What happened if he did something that couldn’t be stopped by calling her his friend? Intention wouldn’t matter if the kid blew a hole in the _Crest._

That was something, a piece of the knot living within her. She worried, for him and for the kid. Identifying it made it easier.

She resisted rolling her eyes at herself. She was certain some combat shrink had said the exact same thing to her at some point. She’d probably tossed off the advice at the time.

It wasn’t all of it though.

It was hard to walk through the events of the past two days. There were pieces and flashes that stood out to her; the shrieking terror of the winged creatures that attacked them in the night; a moment of pride and connection when he had insisted that they would not be separated; the gut dropping lurch of reaching her hand around to support his head and finding it red with his blood.

She could feel the knot rising into her throat and tears welling in her eyes. She savagely shoved the feeling down, looking out over the barren landscape and letting the wind clear her eyes as Greef piloted a land speeder into town.

She tried to take a steadying breath and forced herself to remember. He told her his name, entrusted the child to her, told her to go and to let him die.

She wasn’t worthy of that kind of trust, that kind of faith. Even now, she couldn’t think about his name. It felt unsafe even to test the syllables in her mind.

But he trusted her anyways.

Walking away from him was a very particular type of pain. She had never had to leave someone behind like that before. Death for drop troopers was usually quick and unambiguous. She couldn’t help but feel that she was killing him, that she should have dragged him after her and told him to shove his warrior’s death up his ass.

When he caught up to them with IG 11 in the underground tunnels, she hadn’t had time to say anything about it. She could focus on moving them forward because she could feel the rise and fall of his chest under his armor against her. He was here, he was alive. That was enough for now.

She remembered the complicated feeling of gratitude and regret as IG 11 self-destructed to save their lives, and the powerlessness of watching him launch himself at a TIE fighter while she could only watch from the ground…

She started as Greef pulled the speeder to a stop.

“Come on Dune,” he said, “Let me put you up for the night and we can sort everything else out tomorrow.”

She nodded, barely sparing him a glance as he told a droid to lead her to a room and get her something to eat. She told the droid that she wasn’t hungry and collapsed immediately on the bed.

Tomorrow.

That was a thing, wasn’t it? Tomorrow was going to come, and she was going to be here on Nevarro, staying put again. Not exactly lying low maybe, but that wasn’t as important if Greef really could sort out her chain code.

That was the plan, had been since she first stumbled across Sorgan. Find something steady, find some way to rebuild a life, to be something new.

When Greef had offered, she had accepted without much thought. Getting her chain code cleared was huge, the money was good, and staying in one place was the plan. What else could she have done, really? Going back to scrounging credits in bar fights on Sorgan wasn’t exactly appealing.

Except that _he_ had been surprised, hadn’t he? His tone when she told him she was staying here was expressive, which was saying something for him.

She sighed, covering her eyes with her hands, willing herself to fall asleep. Her body was exhausted, but her mind kept spinning in circles.

Why had he been so surprised? What had he expected her to do? Go back to Sorgan? And what business did he have sounding so affronted anyways? It’s not like he stuck around to discuss it.

Her gut flipped.

He really hadn’t stuck around, had he? The moment it was over, he just grabbed the kid and took off. No time to swap stories and enjoy the moment of peace that victory brought this time, no time to remember the dead.

She didn’t get to tell him she was sorry for leaving him behind, that she should never have done it. Never got to tell him he shouldn’t have trusted her with so much, with his name, with his _child_.

And now he was gone, and space only knew if she would ever see him again. She might never be able to ask why he was so surprised that she decided to stay on Nevarro.

Or had it been disappointment? When he had said “she’s coming with me”, had it meant something more than just the moment? He had called her his friend, and he had come back to Sorgan when she thought he was nothing but a memory.

And she had told him that she wouldn’t leave him, his head cradled against her and his blood on her hands.

But she had left him.

Well, that was it wasn’t it? He said that she was his friend, but never asked her to stay past this mission. She told him she wouldn’t leave him, but then she did.

She told herself that it was too bad that there was no next job, but that was the life they led.

She told herself that she had made the decision to stay put, and it was the right decision for her.

She told herself there was nothing worse than a long goodbye.

Can’t change the past, can’t unmake a decision, can’t un-ring a bell.

But that knot still clung to her chest, and it was a long while before she finally drifted into an exhausted sleep.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tomorrow came, and that painful knot still sat in her chest.

She was pretty practiced at pain by this point, though. So it could just sit there and she could keep moving.

It was still there as she and Greef tracked down the last remaining Imps they could find in the area.

It was still there as they sent out messages to members of the guild informing them that Nevarro was back under Greef’s control.

It was still there as hunters started rolling through for jobs again, and ignoring it was easier when she had some bar fights to break up.

It was harder to ignore at night as she willed herself to sleep, or when she woke up from a nightmare (which still happened all too often).

But it was becoming routine. She could go for hours without thinking about it, and ever so slowly it started to pass, and things started to approach something like normal. She started to long for more excitement, to join the guild like Greef had asked.

Until Greef could sort out her chain code, though, she was stuck on planet, keeping the bounty hunters from doing too much property damage and watching Greef’s surveillance system.

It was a slow night, and she was bored. She was willfully avoiding any thoughts of where _he_ might be, and whether he and the child were well (can’t change the past), when the planet proximity sensor went off.

She jolted and turned her full focus to the screen in front of her.

It wasn’t a ship that was registered with the guild. In fact, it appeared to be a Y-Wing still running on imperial coms.

“Greef”, she picked up her communicator, “I’ve got something”.

She watched as the signal set down near the volcanic caves that bubbled up at the edge of the lava flats.

“Looks like it’s the imps, just a light transport though, and…”

Only moments after she watched the signal settle, it was launching off again. It hit hyperspace before Greef made it into the surveillance room.

She silently turned the read out on the screen towards him, a sense of foreboding creeping up her spine.

“Must have been a pick up,” she said slowly.

Greef looked at her in growing alarm, “Do you have a location on where Gideon’s TIE went down?” he asked.

She zoomed the display out, showing the close proximity of the crash site to the imperial signal.

“We better get out there,” he said at once, “let’s go.”

Stopping to strap on an extra blaster, she lept into the land speeder beside Greef and they took off. It didn’t take them long to get out to the crash site, running at top speed.

The hulk of metal loomed over them in the growing darkness. As they circled it on foot, they saw the huge, square hole that looked as if it had been melted out of the side of the frame.

“What could _do_ that?” Greef asked in disbelief.

“Does it matter?” she answered, her tone flat and controlled, “He clearly got out.”

“And he’s just been picked up…” Greef looked at her, his eyes widening as he realized the implications.

And just like there, the knot wasn’t fading, it wasn’t ignorable, it had a grip around her throat that threatened to cut off her breath.

She looked at Greef, the steadiness of her voice was surprising to her when she spoke, given how unsteady she felt.

“We’ve got to get a message to Mando.”


	2. Sunday Morning Coming

'Cause there's something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone

And there's nothing short a' dying that's half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk and Sunday morning coming down

  * Johnny Cash (Sunday Morning Coming Down)I



Somewhere in deep space, a holo flickered to life in the cockpit of the _Razor Crest_.

“Mando,” she says, her tone flat and serious, “We’ve got a problem.” She pauses.

“Gideon survived,” her face works to remain neutral.

“We should have…Mando, I’m sorry, we should have checked the crash site right away. We caught an imperial ship signature, just dipped in and out before we had a chance to do anything about it. We figure he had been hiding in some nearby caves for almost a week. If we had just…”

She looks off into the distance for a moment, collecting herself.

“It was just a Y-wing, no fleet, no attempt to retake the planet. Greef has been checking and there’s no bounty out on the kid. I don’t imagine he will be able to regroup quickly after the damage you did, but you need to know. He’s out there. There’s no way he won’t come for you once he has the resources.”

She wondered if he could tell how tired she was in the hazy blue image he would see.

“I should have checked,” she said finally, a corner of her lip drawing through her teeth. “I could have stopped this and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” She felt like she was looking him in the eye, across the divide in time and space.

He hoped he could at least tell she was sincere.

She paused for a moment before saying, “Stay safe Mando, and say hi to the kid for me.” She reached forward, abruptly cutting off the holo.

__________________________________________________________________

It had been a full day since she had sent the message. He should have received it by now.

Greef had already told her to clear out of the bar if she couldn’t stop taking out her agitation on the customers. She had told him that his customers should really stop trying out their pick-up lines if they couldn’t handle her fist to their guts, but had removed herself to her rooms without much argument.

The soft ding of her console woke her out of a fitful sleep. She rolled out of bed immediately, flicking on the display and playing the waiting holo.

“Dune,”

She immediately let out a breath seeing him, whole and well.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said his visored gaze steady and calm, “I didn’t check either.”

Just like him, she rolled her eyes, honorable to a fault.

“I’ve seen no sign of any imperial tracking. Any you’re right, I wouldn’t expect Gideon to be able to gather any kind of influence or support again this quickly.” He paused, before going on, “Thank you,” he said sincerely, “for the warning. Let me know if you hear anything.”

He’s still for so long that she thinks the holo may have frozen, she almost startles when he goes on.

“The kid is fine,” he says, “I think he’s bored without a few more crew members around.” She can almost feel his smile under the helmet and he his gaze tilts down and to his right. She assumed the kid was sitting there, watching him as usual. It pulls a warm feeling down her spine that she chooses not to interrogate.

“We’re headed somewhere safe.” He tilts his head back, like he is considering something, “and Cara?” he says, his gaze refocusing on hers even through the holo, “Feel free to call with some good news once in a while, hey?”

She smiles at the grin she knows he is giving her as the holo clicks off.

She thinks about sending back a message right away, but she hasn’t had a decent sleep since she landed on this damn planet, and that little knot in her chest is finally easing.

She collapses back into bed, the knowledge that the he and the kid are safe and alive shaking out the rest of her nervous adrenaline. She is asleep before she can take two full breaths.

_________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t as if she stopped thinking about the way they had left things undone when he went away, but the knowledge that he was out there, alive, and still her friend (or at least something like it) meant that she didn’t need to think about it so much.

She greatly preferred not thinking about it. She didn’t need that kind of complication. She didn’t have room for anything complicated in her life anymore.

And then there was the work, too.

“Dune! Get over here!” Greef called out to her from across the room. She put down her sabacc cards (she was losing anyways) and strolled over, taking her time just to see Greef roll his eyes at her.

“Do me a favour will you, and run your chain code?” he asked with an almost intolerable grin.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, but placed her palm on the scanner he held out, waiting the image of her as she was a few years ago, freshly recruited, to pop up along with all of the black marks against her.

But instead, the scanner simply let out a single beep and the screen went green.

She supposed she could let Greef have his intolerable grins from time to time.

“You did it?” she asked, almost breathless.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Greef responded, his eyes twinkling as he plugged a data stick into the scanner, “now try it again.”

This time, the scanner went blue and the symbol of the guild flashed across the screen.

She let out a short laugh, “You kidding? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Greef confirmed, “Welcome to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, Cara Dune,” he held out is hand to her.

She clasped his wrist in a firm shake, “This is…” she felt almost giddy, “Thanks,” she finally finished.

“Don’t thank me,” Greef said, putting the scanner away and sliding a few puck her way, “just start bringing in the bounties. Take your pick.”

She rifled through the pucks, pulling up the basic information on each bounty. Not exactly the top of the heap, but she supposed she couldn’t expect Greef to give the new kid the good stuff. Hunters tended to get a bit ornery about that sort of thing.

She was stalling, and she knew it.

She had asked to join the guild. She knew that she couldn’t just sit here busting up bar fights for Greef indefinitely. The man might like her, but he wasn’t going to pay good credits for a service he didn’t need. No real use for a rebel drop trooper as an enforcer with all the local imps out of the picture.

She also _wanted_ to go. It had only been a matter of a few weeks and she was already beginning to itch for action. On Sorgan the bar fights had been enough to keep it at bay, and without an unregistered ride off planet, she didn’t really have a choice. But after taking down that AT-AT, and after Nevarro, it was hard to go back to bar fights and the quiet of a backwater world.

She didn’t want to be the person that the war turned her into anymore. But she couldn’t go back to being Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan either.

She pulled the puck with the closest target towards her, “Easy pickings,” she said to Greef with a grin.

Cara Dune, bounty hunter might be okay though. Cara Dune who had a place to come back to, even. That could be good. That could be simple.

She wondered, though, if simple always had to feel quite so empty, if simple always had to mean alone.

It wasn’t hard to arrange a lift from a Bothan named Sorokai to Savareen, where her bounty was located. The Bothan was leaving the next morning for the Kessel Run and would be stopping there in any event.

Once the decision was made and a plan in motion, she checked her weapons carefully, studied the available maps and charts of Savareen, and tried to rest. She knew what she needed to do, and she knew she would get it done. It was honestly barely even a challenge, and the emptiness of it left her hollow.

She found herself, late that evening, in front of the holocam in her rooms. “Hey Mando,” she said, trying not to overthink why exactly she was doing this. She only knew it made her feel less empty, less alone.

“You demand good news, and I deliver. Greef has sorted out my chain code issues, which means I’m officially a member of the guild and heading out on my first job.”

She could imagine the questioning tilt of his head so easily.

“And before you start fretting Mando, it’s an easy catch,” she winked.

“So next message you get from me will mean you’ve officially got me to compete with for pucks. Good luck if you ever try to get back in the game.” She didn’t bother holding back her broad, challenging grin as she flicked a lazy two fingered salute and ended the transmission.

_________________________________________________________________

The flight to Savareen was short, and the Bothan was quiet, so it felt like no time at all before she was winding her way through city streets following the blinking light of her tracking fob.

As the flashing picked up, telling her that her quarry was close, she heard the sounds of music and general ruckus spilling out onto the street from a rough looking Cantina.

“Nice choice,” she said to herself. At least this guy wasn’t hiding out in the sewers.

It didn’t take long to spot the Rodian she was looking for. He was clearly trying to start something with the Twi’lek across from him, but the Twi’lek wasn’t biting. She felt her adrenaline spooling up, the calm focus of combat falling over her as she shouted the most offensive Rodian phrase she knew towards her quarry.

He started towards her with his fists raised, yelling obscenities and stumbling, clearly drunk.

 _Boy,_ she thought to herself with a wicked grin, _you can take a girl out of the bar fight, but you can’t take the bar fight out of the girl._

She was almost disappointed at how quickly it was over, in the end. No one got in her way as she dragged the half insensible Rodian out of the cantina and into the nearest space port. It wasn’t exactly cheap to get the Rodian where he needed to go and get herself back to Nevarro, but the bounty was good enough that it was well worth the credits to get the job done quickly.

When she walked back into Greef’s place and placed the puck showing her completed bounty in front of him, she wasn’t prepared for the enthusiastic slap on the shoulder.

“Listen up!” he shouted at the room, where a dozen hunters or so were sitting around trading stories or waiting for pucks, “You all know Dune by now, she’s probably kicked your ass once or twice.”

“Just waiting for you to try it again, Dune!” hollered a jovial Cerean from somewhere in a back corner.

“You wish!” she cut back with a grin. She liked the woman fine, but she had a bad habit of being a handsy drunk.

“Well Dune here has just successfully brought in her first bounty, making her a full fledged member of the bounty hunters guild. So buy the lady a drink, will you?”

She was surprised at how genuinely pleased most of the hunters seemed to be, and how forthcoming they were with the drinks. Any chance to celebrate, she supposed.

She was hazy and grinning when she collapsed to a seat in front of her holocam in the early hours of the morning. She flicked it on, queuing up a message to send to the only person off planet who she talked to these days.

“Got ‘im,” she said, sending off the message before promptly collapsing into her bed.

_______________________________________________________

Sticking around on planet for a while seemed like a good idea. She was trying to figure out how she could get her hands on her own ship sooner rather than later. Paying for rides wasn’t exactly ideal, and despite Greef clearing her chain code, she wasn’t about to start taking registered transports.

Plus the bounty hunters weren’t so bad really. The Cerean, Keida Telsh, was downright fun so long as she kept her hands to herself.

She hadn’t heard from _him_ since her last message, but then it hadn’t really been much of a message. She’d sort of regretted it the next morning. Sending drunk holos wasn’t typically a good thing, even though she hadn’t said anything regrettable.

No doubt he was busy. She was sure he’d check in at some point. Or maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he and the kid were in the far reaches of the galaxy and that slurred “Got ‘im” would be their last communication. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it.

This was home now, or getting there. She was starting to feel comfortable.

Right up until she walked into Greef’s place one morning to see a small grey pram, a set of ridiculous green ears and _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to gernetiana for catching and very politely pointing out some very embarrassing misspellings. I have since corrected them, so hopefully you will never know what they were!


	3. Courage

Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyways.

  * John Wayne



He noticed her the moment she walked in, like he had been waiting, and got to his feet at once.

She looked at him for a long moment, deciding how she wanted to react. She hadn’t really thought about what it would be like to see him again.

The last time he had just shown up, he was a respected equal, a good man to have on your side in a fight.

This time, though, he had called her friend, trusted her with his child, held her hand when he thought he was dying and told her his name, which she still couldn’t seem to use. He was something different now.

“You know,” she said as she walked up to him, “If you had called ahead, I could’ve ordered breakfast.”

“Good to see you too,” he said, the amusement cutting through the filtered tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” she agreed easily, because it was good to see him.

“What happened?” he tilted his head at the yellow green remnants of a bruise on her cheekbone.

“Let that bounty get close enough to land a shot so I could take him down,” she said, seeing his fingers twitch, almost like he wanted to reach out.

“Not a particularly safe move in a firefight, is it?” he asked evenly.

“Not a firefight,” she said with a grin, “a bar fight.”

His head tilted up in surprise “You took in your first bounty in a bar fight?” he seemed honestly delighted.

“Surprised?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Impressed,” he answered, as they stood there grinning at each other.

Well, at least she was pretty sure he was grinning. She wondered if he felt the same relief that she did that this easy rapport was still there between them.

“So,” she went on, “is this a social call? Or are you out of credits?”

“Neither,” he said, gesturing to her to take a seat, “I need your help with the kid.” He looked back at the child who babbled nonsense noises and raised his arms excitedly in Cara’s direction.

“I’m not a babysitter,” she said almost automatically, even as she reached over and pulled the delighted kid into her lap.

He watched the child as he grabbed for her hair, “Not that kind of help,” he said.

“So what then? You get any word on Gideon?” she looked away from the child, alarm prickling the hair on her neck.

“No, not yet,” he said shaking his head, “I’ve got some intel. A source told me that a Jedi archive survived the empire, might have some useful information.”

She could feel her eyebrows raise up to her hairline. “That’s some source,” she said, gently prodding for whatever information he was ready to give.

“Wookie I know,” he said easily, “they live a long time, remember a lot of things.”

“This Wookie remember anything about the kid?” she leaned in, focused.

“Her father, a chieftain named Tarful, fought with a Jedi Master in the clone wars,” he said, his voice low, leaning closer to ensure they were not overheard, “apparently this Jedi looked a lot like the kid.”

“Jedi Master hey,” she said with a low whistle, “not exactly a humble title, is it?”

“Not really, no,” he said, “but the Wookies seemed to respect the Jedi. Mandalorians, apparently not so much.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. His people were mysterious and not prone the share with outsiders, so she (like the rest of the galaxy) knew very little about the history of Mandalore.

“Not here,” he said, “I made a trip to the library on Arcan IV. Between that and what I learned from the Wookies, I’ve filled in some gaps.”

She nodded, content to wait. She was honestly surprised at how much he had shared already.

“So what’s the deal with this Jedi archive?” she asked.

“Located in a Jedi temple. Apparently it wasn’t destroyed because the Empire was mining it for information, or at least trying to. During the Rebellion, they sent a team in there to either take or destroy any information they could, but the data storage was something they had never seen before. Couldn’t open it, couldn’t take it, and couldn’t destroy it.”

“So what makes you think you can access it?” she asked, although she already had an idea.

He looked at the child, “The Jedi created it. I’m betting the kid can open it.”

“Probably a fair bet,” she said, bouncing the child gently as his wide eyes started to blink sleepily, “So why does all of this bring you here?”

“This temple, it’s well secured. The New Republic is protecting it, and I don’t have the contacts to get in,” his hand lay palm up on the table as he looked at her steadily through his visor.

“And you think I do?”

He nodded silently, his first curling and uncurling.

“Where is it?” she asked warily, a cold and sick feeling hovering over her like a premonition.

“Coruscant.”

She pushed back from the table with such a sharp jerk that his hand went to his blaster and the child let out a startled bleat.

She could feel grey creeping in at the side of her vision, a cold sweat breaking out across her brow, remembered agony ripping through her nerves like fire.

“Cara,” he reached his hand towards her, “what?”

“Why risk it?” she said, gripping the edge of the table so tight with one hand that her knuckles turned white, the other clutching the child to her protectively “Going to a core world just for a bit of information. Why not follow down other leads? Keep the kid safe?”

His gaze was focused, his hand still reaching towards her. He spoke calmly, as he might to a spooked animal. “The kid isn’t going to be safe anywhere once Gideon starts hunting him again. And I don’t have any other leads. This temple is supposed to be where they trained Jedi. How am I supposed to help him without this?”

She forced herself to relax, dropping her grip on the table and settle the slightly alarmed child back in his pram.

They sat in silence for a moment. She could feel the concern coming off him in waves, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Cara,” he said finally, gently, “if you can’t find me a connection on Coruscant, or if you won’t, I’ll move on, find another way. You don’t need to be involved in this. But I’m going. I have to go”

She let out a long shaky breath, “Of course you do.”

She steeled herself, knowing that she was going to have to go through with this. Because she _could_ get him to Coruscant, and he _did_ need to go.

“I have a connection, and I’ll make the contact, but I’m coming with you.”

“You want to come?” he was still looking at her like he was waiting for her to explode, or shoot him, or _something_.

“I don’t _want_ to come,” she said through clenched teeth, “But you’re not going to be able break into a secured core world location on your own, my contact isn’t likely to help you without me, and I don’t want to be directly responsible for you and the kid dying. You get me and the contact or you get neither. Okay?” she held out her hand, knowing that her fingers trembled, but her gaze was strong.

He studied her for a long moment before nodding and gripping her hand, “Okay.”

______________________________________________________________________

The last time she was on the _Crest_ , they had been preparing for a fight worth fighting, their blood was up and their energy was high.

This time, the place was almost eerily silent, even the child was subdued, looking back and forth between the two adults currently in the hold with wide and pensive eyes.

“You wanna tell me _why_ you won’t ID this contact before we drop out of hyperspace?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” she said stiffly, hyper aware that every moment they moved closer and closer to Coruscant.

“Only reason I can think of is that you know I’m not going to like it, that true?” he asked pointedly, arms crossed as he shot her what she knew was a frustrated stare.

“No,” she said again, eyes focused on her blaster which she was carefully cleaning for the second time. She knew she was being difficult, and she knew he was right to ask these questions, and right to be annoyed, but she couldn’t hold it together _and_ deal with him right now.

“You know any other kriffing words Dune?” he finally burst out.

She looked up at him, startled at the level of emotion in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, blinking in surprise.

He let out a short sharp laugh in spite of himself, and the tension broke. The corner of her lips turned up at the sound. He should laugh more, she thought.

“He’s fine, he’s New Republic, but you knew that,” she finally said, steadily turning back to her blaster.

He nodded, “Figured anyone who could get us onto a core world unregistered would have to be.”

“Do you really need to know anything else?” she said, hating the vulnerability she could hear in her own voice.

He looked at her for a long moment, and she knew he was seeing more than she wanted him too, but she also knew that there wasn’t much room for secrets in this kind of operation.

“Just one thing,” he said at last, “You trust him?”

She nodded once.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m good with that.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding, her eyes still cast down to her weapon. She could feel his gaze on her for a long moment before she heard him climb up towards the cockpit, taking the child with him.

Alone, she allowed herself one, short, gasping sob. A release valve, letting out a bit of the tension building up in her. She could do this. She was Cara kriffing Dune and she had survived this place before. She could do it again.

________________________________________________________________

He called down to her from the cockpit as she felt the ship lurch out of hyperspace, “Coming up on Coruscant.”

She climbed up into the now cramped cockpit, noting with some amusement that the child was sitting up excitedly to his right, clutching a small metal ball that looked like it had been pulled from a lever on the console.

But then she saw the busy, grey atmosphere of Coruscant, and she had to work to regulate her breath. “Okay,” she said, “Let me call it in.”

She leaned over to enter a comm code into the system. Her call was picked up right away. “This is the _Razor Crest_ calling in for a landing code,” she said stiffly.

“Hey Cara,” a gentle male voice came through, “How’re you doing?”

She caught the surprised shift of the man beside her at the intimate tone of the question. She tensed, “Be doing better once you get us on the ground,” she said evenly.

“Right, right,” a chuckle came across the line, “all business. Transmitting your code now, the beacon will lead you right to me.”

She could _feel_ his questioning look as the comm cut off. “Shut up,” she said without looking at him.

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, but seemingly couldn’t help asking, “Close friend of yours then?”

“You say anything else, Mando, and I’ll shoot you,” she kept her voice steady and her gaze on the navi-computer, but couldn’t help the twitch of a smile.

How he could make her smile as they were breaking the atmosphere on Coruscant, the last place in the galaxy she wanted to be, she did not know.

The landing beacon sat them down on a landing pad at the top of a towering skyscraper, the penthouse of a very high end residential building. She rolled her eyes as she got a good look at the place, walking down the _Crest’s_ ramp. Typical, only the best would do.

He followed her down the landing ramp of the _Crest_ warily, hand at his hip, ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice.

But it was only one man, unarmed, that came out to greet them. She looked him over as he walked towards them, sure that Mando was seeing the same things she was. A man close to his own age, who held himself like a soldier, but had gone a bit soft around the edges. Fit, but not in fighting shape. Someone who didn’t make their living on the strength of their arms anymore.

“Cara,” he said as he approached, “It’s good to see you,” his voice was warm and familiar and she let him pull her into a tight embrace without much thought.

She heard Mando clear his throat from behind her.

Right.

She pulled away, “Rail, this is Mando. Mando, Rail Tokani, New Republic slicer, my contact.”

The two men nodded at each other warily. She half expected them to start circling each other like wild gundarks, sizing each other up.

Finally, Rail held out his hand, “Any friend of Cara’s is a friend of mine,” he said solidly.

Mando took his hand firmly, “Partner,” he said evenly.

Cara looked at the two of them warily, not entirely sure what sort of contest was happening here, but sure that _something_ was going on.

“Right,” Rail said after a moment, his eyes cutting sideways to her before they dropped hands and stepped apart.

“Well,” he said, “Probably best to take the reunion inside then.”

“Hold on,” she said, “One more person to meet.”

“The mysterious reason for your impromptu visit?” Rail asked with a resigned grin that was familiar to her.

“Something like that,” she said as Mando pulled the pram forward out of the _Crest_ using his gauntlet control, standing protectively close with his hand on his weapon.

“This is the child,” she said, as he opened up the pram’s cover.

Rail blinked for a moment, looking between the two of them and then down at the smiling face of the now babbling child.

“What…” he paused, “no, you know what? I’m just not going to ask.”

“You always were smart,” she with a small but genuine smile.

“Come on,” he said, heading back across the landing pad, “Let’s get started.”


	4. Can't Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags. This chapter contains non-graphic reference to torture.

Well, there are some things a man just can't run away from.

– John Wayne

In a back corner of his massive apartments, Rail had what she could only think of as a war room. All four walls, along with the floors and the ceiling, were packed with electronics and holos.

“Okay,” he said, something different and sharper about his tone as he got down to business, “let’s start with the lay of the land.”

He pulled his hand through the air and a holo the size of the room popped into existence, showing a bird’s eye view of a large section of Coruscant in surprising detail.

The child, watching from his pram, hovering close between her and Mando, let out a delighted noise and waved his hands through the edge of the holo field that just crossed the rim of the pram.

“Yeah, that’s right kid,” Rail said with an easy smile, “We’re here,” a red dot blinked over a section of the map close to the child. “And the Jedi Temple is here,” another red dot far across the map in the other corner of the room lit up.

“Now, you’ve got easy public transport from where we are here for about three quarters of the way. So long as you put a cloak over all that Beskar, should be enough traffic that you won’t stick out,” he said in Mando’s direction.

He didn’t move a muscle, but she would _swear_ he was affronted by the comment.

“Chain code could be an issue in public spaces though,” he said, “so if you…”

“Not a problem,” she said, “public transport will work.”

He looked at her in surprise, “They cleared you? Really? Cara, that’s…”

She held up her hand to stop him, “My code has been cleared, but not by any official means, okay? So how do we get from the end of the transit line to this temple?”

Rail looked at her for a moment, but followed her lead and went on, “Easy enough, just drop down a couple city layers to the seedier parts and take a stroll. The temple spire sits really high, but the base may actually go all the way down to the surface.”

“Are there any entrances through the lower levels?” Mando stepped closer into the map as Rail zoomed in, showing the path to the temple through the under streets of the planet wide city of Coruscant.

“Nothing on any official maps,” said Rail with a twinkle, “but if you know where to look…” the outline of the temple lit up in blue, and a grid schematic overlaid the map, now zoomed in tight on the temple itself.

“I took the liberty of putting together a schematic of the temple based on all sources I could track down. Information is locked up pretty tight, but I was able to map out about 70% of the interior. Looks to me like there should be an entrance point down here,” a section of the schematic, well below the surface levels, blinked.

“I sent a drone down there to take a look, and best I can tell, it’s the end of a trash chute. Shouldn’t be too hard to find the grate and follow it in.”

Cara nodded, with a smile, he had gone to a lot of trouble for them.

“What about security,” Mando asked stiffly, “My sources say it’s buttoned up tight. Breaching the exterior is bound to set off alarms.”

Rail let out a laugh, “Same old Cara hey? She really didn’t tell you anything about me, did she?”

He shook his head once, giving her a _look_ under his helmet.

“I’ll follow you on coms. There won’t be any alarms,” Rail said.

“Just what exactly do you _do_ for the New Republic,” Mando asked suspiciously.

“I break security systems,” he said evenly, “same thing I used to do on Cara’s drop team. Although,” he grinned at Cara, “this might be one of the first times I’m actually breaking one of my own systems.”

“Hmmph,” the doubtful sound all that Mando said in reply.

“oooooooOOOO,” cooed the child, running a hand through the lights in front of him and effectively breaking the odd tension in the room.

“Take all the time you want with the holos,” Rail said, “and I’ve got it loaded on a data stick for you to take with you.

“Thank you,” she said, her appreciation genuine. She had known that Rail would come through for her, same as anyone on her drop team would, but he had really gone all out.

“Anything Dune,” he said with a sincerity that startled her, before he smiled and slipped out of the room.

Sure they had had a thing during the war. It wasn’t uncommon. She had always wondered if it had been more for him, but surely he didn’t still….

She shook the thought away and re-focused. “So what’s your best guess on what we’re looking for once we get in?” she asked, twisting the map of the temple in front of her to take a look at the partially mapped interior.

“You’re really not going to make a comment?” Mando asked dryly.

“Comment on what?” she asked with a false innocence, “Look at this open space here at the centre, might be a good place to start,” she went on.

“ _Anything Dune?_ ” he repeated Rail’s words as a question.

Her nerves had been on edge ever since he first mentioned Coruscant, and of course he knew something was up, but she didn’t want to talk about it, and she was right at the edge of her patience.

“You have a _problem_ with that Mando?” she cut back, harsher than she meant to.

She kept her eyes on the holo through his long silence, not daring to turn.

If he _looked_ at her in that questioning way, even though the visor, if he put his hand on her arm, she was going to fall to pieces. And she couldn’t do that. Especially not in front of him.

“No problem,” he finally said, “Just trying to figure you out.”

“Don’t,” she said, wincing as it sounded more like a plea and less like the decisive statement she intended.

She could hear him breathe out a long sigh. “I’m going to get the kid something to eat, and then we should rest. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she said, desperate for some distance, a moment to _breathe_.

“Fine,” he answered back sharply, and then pulled in a breath like he wanted to take it back. But he didn’t, just turned and walked out along with the child.

___________________________________________________________________

She knew it was going to be bad. How could it not be? Her nightmares were bad enough without being back here.

Still, it took her a moment to recognize that the ringing in her ears was her own scream.

She let out a harsh breath, trying to gather herself.

And then, with a startling _whoosh_ , her door opened and he was standing there half armored, blaster drawn, helmet on.

She startled back, skittering away from him up the bed, reacting on instinct to the adrenaline still running through her from her dream.

He immediately took a step back, blaster raised, hand off the trigger, “Easy,” he said, “Just me.”

And all at once she was too tired to do it anymore, too tired to hold herself together. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulled close to her chest, and rested her head on them so that he wouldn’t see the tears stinging the corner of her eyes.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stay or go.

“You okay?” he finally asked, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him.

She lets out a muffled sort of scoffing noise without lifting her head.

“Okay,” he said steadily, “stupid question.”

He was edging closer, moving slowly and talking low. It occurred to her that he was probably familiar with this sort of thing, with violence that wouldn’t let itself be forgotten.

“I pushed you,” he said, the guilt and self-blame in his voice stabbing her like a knife to the heart, “I…”

She cut him off, lifting her head slightly, “Wasn’t you,” she said, “’s this godforsaken planet.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, perching himself awkwardly on the corner of her bed. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I knew there was something…”

“Hey, don’t give yourself too much credit there,” she said with a weak attempt at a light tone, “you didn’t _make_ me do anything.”

“Look,” she said after a moment, “Don’t worry yourself. I’m still ready to do this. I’ll be ready.”

He tipped his head back in what looked a lot like exasperation, “Don’t be dense Cara. It’s not about the mission,” he said firmly, “it’s about _you_.”

She looked at him steadily for a long moment, her mind turning. He had trusted her with so much. Couldn’t she trust him with this? And god, wouldn’t it be a _relief_?

He was quiet, clearly letting her think.

“I’ve been here before, during the war. Not by choice,” she finally said in a small and distant voice.

“You were captured,” he said, and she could feel him tense from across the bed.

“I had intel they wanted,” she said, looking anywhere but him. “S’the only reason they didn’t kill me. Not that the interrogation felt like the better option at the time.”

He was silent and focused, all of his attention on her like a laser beam.

“I was here for two weeks before I got out. It was one of the first of the core worlds liberated after Endor. I got out.” She repeated, like a mantra “Rail and my team, they were here for the liberation and they knew where I was being held. And I got out.”

She felt him shift, and then she felt his ungloved hand rest against her ankle. It was grounding, and it let her take a breath and continue.

“Just before the Alliance came running in, the admiral who…he saw the tide turning. He gave the Alliance security codes to the planetary defense system, helped them take the planet with very little fighting. Said he hated the Empire, was just trying to stay alive. They believed him. They…they didn’t even _ask_ me. They just…”

“Is he alive?” he finally spoke, his voice as cold as ice.

“You’re way too late.”

“You took him out.” It wasn’t a question, he knew her better than that.

“You’re damn right I did,” she said, “took me a long time to find the opportunity, and it turns out the government doesn’t take to kindly to a soldier killing the man she was ordered to protect, but it was worth it.”

“So when you said you’d been a few things since being a veteran…” he said.

“Murderer, deserter, wanted criminal,” she listed off.

“Survivor,” Din said fiercely, “partner. Friend.”

For the first time in all of this, she looked at him, unerringly finding his eyes even behind the visor. Slowly, she nodded at him, tears catching in the corner of her eyes.

“So that’s it,” she finally said, feeling exposed and awkward now that it was all out there.

“Can I?” he asked, gesturing towards the bed. She nodded and moved to one side so he could sit next to her, propped against the headboard, his legs crossed in front of him.

“I feel a bit better about working with this Rail guy now,” he said, his tone light.

She let out a surprised laugh in spite of herself. “I’ll take it,” she said.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

“This happen often?” he asked, “the dreams?”

“Sometimes,” she answered, finding it easier to discuss like this, when she could feel his arm pressing into hers but didn’t need to look him in the eyes, “You?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Hard to sleep after,” she went on carefully, “doesn’t feel safe.”

“Hmmm,” he agreed, “You can sleep though,” he went on after a moment, “I’ve got your six.”

She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I know,” she said.

She settled back against a propped up pillow, the silence feeling easy and comfortable rather than oppressive. She was almost surprised when he spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice was oddly tentative.

She nodded sleepily.

“You don’t use my name,” he said after another moment. “Why?”

Her breath caught for a moment, “Well,” she said trying to keep her tone even, “You thought you were dying when you told me, didn’t know if you’d want me to know it when it turned out you weren’t.”

“I want you to know it,” he said… _Din_ said firmly.

“Okay,” she said, a smile creeping across her lips.

“Okay,” he answered.

“Goodnight, Din Djarin,” she said, testing the syllables carefully.

“Goodnight,” he said warmly.

The sound of his even measured breaths beside her was soothing and, for once, sleep came easily.


	5. A Reason

Ikigai is a Japanese concept meaning “a reason for being”. Everyone has an ikigai. Finding it requires a deep and often lengthy search of self. Such a search is very important, since it is believed that discovery of one’s ikigai brings satisfaction and meaning to life.

She rolled into consciousness slowly, aware of a scratchy feeling in her throat and a hard surface under her cheek.

After another slow moment, she realized that one of her arms was tucked under something heavy next to her.

And then awareness finally dawned. Her cheek was resting on Din’s paldron, her right arm thrown across his chest and pinned there by his arm, her right leg pressing against his thigh.

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as she would have expected really, but it’s not like she wanted to make things really awkward by lingering. She could tell the moment he woke as she started to pull away, his arm tensing on hers before releasing.

“Can’t be comfortable sleeping in that thing,” she said, gesturing at his helmet in an attempt to keep the mood light.

“You get used to it,” he said, pushing himself upright, “did you…” he trailed off, looking at her with an odd tilt to his head.

“What?” she asked, brushing her hands across her hair, checking for anything out of place.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “You’ve just got…on your face…uh…”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was _flustered._

“What about my face?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve got to go check on the kid,” he said abruptly, “We should head out as early as we can. Let meet at the _Crest_ to gear up,” the last words trailing behind him as he made a beeline from the room.

She shrugged and got out of bed. It wasn’t until she got into the ‘fresher that she realized what had thrown Din for a loop. There on her right cheek was a clear, raised impression of his clan signet, pressed into her skin from where she had rested against it during the night.

She knew that his clan signet was a big deal. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t accidentally stumbled across some Mandalorian taboo she wasn’t aware of, but with everything that had happened last night and everything on their to-do list today, she didn’t give it much more thought.

__________________________________________________________

“Boy,” she said quietly as they walked side by side in the dim, chemical light, “Rail really wasn’t kidding about this being the seedy part of town, was he?”

“A bit of an understatement,” Din’s voice was tense beside her. Deciding that the pram was too conspicuous, the child was instead securely bound to his chest. She could tell that this made him nervous, having the child so exposed.

“On the plus side,” she said as she skirted some unidentifiable fluid dripping from above them, “we’re far from noticeable in this crowd.”

In fact, the bright lights of the occasional flickering sign or banner, combined with the kaleidoscope of species teeming through the streets, made them seem downright boring.

“Here,” said Din, ducking down a side passage, “should be right here.”

 _Right here_ was, unfortunately, what looked like a garbage heap.

“After you,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

“Of course,” he said in a resigned tone, as he began pulling scrap away from the ancient wall of a building mostly obscured by the trash in front of them.

The child, at least, seemed intrigued by the scraps they tossed away, even if she despaired of ever getting the smell out of her clothing.

“Ha!” she said, triumphant as she pulled away a piece of scrap metal revealing a heavy metal grate, crusted over with rust and who knew what else.

“Could have taken our chances with the front door, you know,” Din said darkly.

“Sometimes the answer is stealth, and not shooting,” she responded, “as hard as that may be for you to accept.”

He responded by shooting out the rusted hinges of the grate, leaving it to clatter to the ground.

“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing at the dank tunnel in front of them.

“Of course,” she shook her head wearily as she crawled in.

Rail’s maps proved almost entirely accurate, and the read out from Din’s cuff was updating itself as they went. Once they made it in the building, it wasn’t hard to find their way upwards towards the large open area marked on the map.

The child was vocal about his interest as they moved through the dark corridors, the age and beauty of the building obvious and imposing. When they made it to their destination, they exited a hallway into a wide chamber, the massive transparisteel roof far above them letting in dim and dusty rays of light as they surveyed the awesome scope of the place.

“How does no one _know_ about this place?” she asked in amazement.

“Empire worked hard to make it that way,” Din said, his gaze also tilted upwards, “they killed the Jedi, and wiped out every record of their existence.”

The child let out an excited squawk that echoed across the tiled floor, and all of a sudden a holo projector flickered to life.

“Not every record,” came the thin but powerful voice of a hologram of a tall woman, clad in a long robe and with white hair wrapped on top of her head.

Without thinking, she stepped in front of the child, drawing her blaster.

The holographic woman looked at her with such a withering stare that she sheepishly holstered her blaster.

“I am the Archivist,” the holo went on, “and you are intruders.”

She went on high alert again. If the system knew they were here, then Rail may not be able to protect them for any countermeasures or alarms, since no one had been able to access the internal system.

She felt Din put a steadying hand on her forearm, “We are here for the child,” he said, unwrapping him from his chest, and holding him so that he could see the holo.

“Most interesting,” said the woman, “Where did you come upon this child Mandalorian?”

“He is my foundling,” said Din steadily, “and a member of my clan. I have been charged with returning him to his people.”

“A heavy charge indeed,” said the Archivist, “as even I am not sure where they can be found. I have only ever known one other.”

“A Jedi Master,” prompted Din.

“Yes, Master Yoda.” The Archivist sounded sad.

She was beginning to understand that this was not a holographic interface, but a complex and sentient program. No wonder no one had been able to break into the system.

“If we can’t find his people, then the Jedi are his people,” said Din.

“And yet, the Jedi are no more,” said the archivist.

“So you’re saying that it’s hopeless?” asked Din, his ire clearly rising.

“No Mandalorian, it is not hopeless,” she said kindly, “only more complicated than you might have hoped.”

“Are there really no Jedi left?” she asked, crossing her arms and watching the Archivist closely.

“All I can say is that I do not have access to any information that could answer that question,” the Archivist appeared to be smiling at her.

She raised an eyebrow, of course not. If there was any possibility of the wrong person getting access to the archives, then the existence or whereabouts of any Jedi would be the one piece of information that they could not risk leaving in the system.

She looked at Din, who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion.

“Okay,” he said evenly, “Let’s say there are no Jedi left, what can I do for the child?”

“That depends greatly on the child,” she said, looking down at the mesmerized face in front of her, “Would you let me speak to him?” she asked.

“He doesn’t speak,” said Din, although he did place the child on the floor, where he toddled towards the holographic woman with his arms outstretched, blinking and stumbling in surprise as he found her non-corporeal.

“Hmmm,” she said, “I wonder…” from a pillar near here, an opening appeared and a small remote floated out and down towards the child.

“What…” she started, moving towards the foreign object.

“It’s okay,” said Din, stopping her, “It’s a training remote.”

“Yes,” said the archivist as the remote floated towards the child, to his great interest, “the history between the Mandalorians and the Jedi goes back centuries. It does not surprise me that we have trained our young in similar ways.”

The child watched with rapt attention as the remote sent a little puff of air at him, ruffling the downy hair on his ears. With an excited chirp, he raised his small hand and screwed his face up in concentration. The remote was suddenly pushed back several feet, leaving the child clapping in delight.

“What have you seen him do,” asked the Archivist, watching as the child interacted with the small remote, buffeting it this way and that as it rewarded him with blinking lights and beeps.

“He lifted a fully grown Mudhorn off the ground mid charge,” said Din.

She started and looked at him. He hadn’t ever told her that.

“He’s healed mortal wounds,” he paused a moment before adding, “It’s _very_ difficult to keep him out of places he wants to go.”

The Archivist smiled, “I can imagine,” she turned her gaze to Cara, “and you?”

“I’ve seen him heal,” she said slowly, looking at Din cautiously. He had, she thought, left out a few very important examples.

“And,” the Archivist prompted.

She stared Din down, until finally he nodded ever so slightly.

“He tried to choke me once,” she said, “Though I don’t think he really meant to hurt me. And I’ve seen him…I don’t even know how to explain it…he _captured_ a wall of fire and threw it back on our attacker.”

The Archivist nodded thoughtfully, “Do not be afraid,” she said, “he is a child. Like all children, he needs to learn, be guided. We cannot expect them to arrive fully formed, particularly with one so powerful as this child.”

“So we do need to find the Jedi,” Din said dispiritedly, “Even though you cannot tell us if any still exist.”

“That part of your journey I cannot help you with, true,” said the woman, “but that does not mean I can give you nothing. Please follow me.”

They followed her, Din picking up the child as the Archivist flickered in and out of visibility as the no doubt ancient holo projectors cut in and out.

“Here,” she said, stopping at a section of the wall covered in a square grid, “Take this,” one of the grid squares moved away from the wall, revealing that it was actually a crate of some kind.

“What is it?” asked Din, taking the crate in one hand.

“Tools,” said the archivist, “like the remote. It will help the child learn about his powers, to channel them safely. Only the simplest will be available to him until his skills grow and allow him to access more.”

“Jedi school in a box?” she asked skeptically, “that hardly seems likely.”

“It is a start,” said the Archivist, “and nothing more. You are quite right that these tools cannot train a Jedi. That is why I am also giving you this,” a data stick slowly ejected from a nearby port in the wall. “It is a copy of everything I can think of that may help you understand this child, understand who the Jedi were.”

Din took the data stick and stared at it. She couldn’t think of anything to say either. They had gone from knowing almost nothing to this wealth of information so fast it made her head spin.

Only the child seemed to be unperturbed, already trying to twist out of Din’s arms to get at the crate.

“Thank you,” Din finally said.

“No,” said the Archivist, “Do not thank me. Instead, I thank the universe for providing this child with two such fierce protectors, who will go to such lengths to find answers. Go well Mandalorian, go well warrior,” she nodded at each of them, “and may the Force be with you.”

Her holograph flickered out and they were left in the dusty silence again.

“Well,” she said after a minute, “you were right when you insisted on coming here.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit shell shocked.

“Now can we get out of here so we can get the hell off this planet and out of the core?”

“Soon as we possibly can,” he echoed her tense desire to be gone, strapping the unwilling child back to his chest so they could move faster.

“Better than my last trip though,” she said, surprised to find that the joke didn’t feel quite as forced as it might have yesterday, “so far anyways.”

She was gratified as Din let out a surprised laugh as they moved off into the dark corridors, leaving the temple silent once more.


	6. Hard Work

There's plain few problems can't be solved with a little sweat and hard work

  * John Wayne, Pale Rider



“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and visit for a while?” Rail asked, leaning against the door frame as she toweled her hair after her second attempt to wash out the smell of the garbage chute.

“Not exactly my favorite planet in the galaxy,” she said tightly, honestly surprised that he would ask.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, pushing off the wall and following as she picked up her belongings and headed for the main room where Din and the kid were waiting for her, “I thought it would be nice to make some better memories.”

“No offense Rail,” she said, not caring how harsh it sounded, “but there aren’t any kind of memories that can wash away two weeks of Imperial interrogation.”

She saw Din look towards them sharply from where he waited by the exit, clearly as eager as her to be gone.

Rail was looking at her with a sort of pitying concern that she absolutely _loathed_ , “Would you let me try? Your friend can head out now, I can drop you anywhere you like in a few days.”

“Partner,” Din spoke sharply, moving beside her, “and she’s coming with me.”

“Cara,” Rail stepped towards her holding out a hand, “please. You know I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

She had suspected he might be carrying a torch, but then how could he ask her to stay in this place? And how dare he do this to her in front of _him_. He couldn’t have caught a quiet word? He always was a bit of a showman, but this was too much.

“Rail,” she said tightly, “let’s not do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes then cutting to Din who stood beside her, his arms folded and a challenging tilt to his head. He sighed.

“Yeah,” he said, “I get it. Okay.” He reached out his hand again, this time clearly for a handshake, and she took it gratefully. “I’m always here if you need me,” he said, “same as any of us that dropped with you.”

She nodded gratefully.

“Take care of her hey, Mando?” he said, extending his hand again.

Din just stared at him for a long moment, before stating “She doesn’t need me for that,” before turning and walking out without a glance back.

Cara shrugged, privately quite pleased at the statement, “He’s not particularly social, but he’s great in a fight.” She turned back as she walked out the door, “Thanks Rail, you let me know if I can ever return the favor.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the landing pad and boarded the _Crest,_ and it felt like a relief when the hold sealed up behind her.

She climbed up to the cockpit, perching behind the child as Din pulled away from Coruscant’s atmosphere and set the jump to Nevarro. And he was _looking_ at her. She was always amazed at how he could convey subtleties like the shit eating grin she _knew_ she would see if she could ever see his face.

“Shut up,” she said, willing herself not to blush as the _Crest_ made the jump to hyperspace.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, amusement clear in his tone.

“You were thinking it,” she said accusingly, but her irritation was warring with her own sense of the humor of the situation.

Din didn’t answer, just headed for the ladder down to the hold. “I should have known that you were a heartbreaker Carasynthia Dune,” he said, before he gripped the sides of the ladder and dropped down into the hold.

She couldn’t help the wide grin on her face as she shouted after him, “You’re a dead man, Djarin!”

____

While they had started to look through the data stick on their way to Nevarro, the sheer volume of information was immense, so they were now sitting in a back room at Greef’s surrounded by screens and screens of information while the child buffeted a remote back and forth in the middle of the floor.

“Where are you even going to start with all of this,” she asked, scrolling almost idly through the enormous index.

“I learned a few things about the history of Mandalore and the Jedi on Arcan IV,” he said, “I’ll probably start there.”

“Mysterious history of Mandalore, hey? Are you allowed to tell outsiders?”

“Not a mystery,” he said, “Just wasn’t exactly the focus of my education.”

“Are there actually any…” she cut herself off with a burst of laughter.

Din looked at her skeptically.

“Sorry, sorry,” she managed through her laughter, “just….Mandalorian historian!” she cracked up again. She was mildly worried that she was losing it, but it felt really good to laugh like this after the last few days.

She heard Din let out an amused snort, “Yes, apparently there are,” he said, as she wiped at her eyes and settled again. “I found some information in the library on Arcan IV. Somewhere in the far past, the Mandalorians and the Jedi must have been enemies. Doesn’t seem like there was a lot of love lost. But sometime before I was born, there was a civil war on Mandalore and a pacifist faction took control.”

“Pacifist Mandalorians?” she asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow, “is that even allowed?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Din answered evasively, “there are lots of clans, lots of different ideas out there.”

“What about your clan?” she asked, “I can’t imagine that you were raised by pacifists.”

“My clan currently has only two members,” he reminded her with a fond glance towards the child who was intensely focused on the floating remote which was now emitting colored lights in response to something he was doing. “The clan I was recused by, though, were definitely not pacifists.”

It was more than she’d ever heard about his past, so she stayed quiet and attentive, letting him talk.

“As far as I know, I was rescued in the middle of another civil war. The group that rescued me was known as the Death Watch. They had been exiled in the first civil war, but shortly after they found me, they took back the planet. Didn’t help them escape the Empire though. Many left when the Empire took control, I was with those. The first time I went to Mandalore was when Bo Katan Kryze claimed the dark saber and brought Mandalore into the rebellion. Maybe nine years ago. And then came the purge, and we went into hiding.”

Almost nine years. The thought was daunting. She had been in the covert on Nevarro. Nine years in the dark there would be…difficult. But there was another part of his story that had struck her. “What is the dark saber?” she asked, the name alone triggering a frisson of warning.

“It’s the symbol of Mandalorian leadership,” he said, “an energy weapon that can cut through beskar.”

She froze. “The sort of thing that could probably melt a hole in durasteel?” she asked.

“What do you know?” he asked sharply.

She wordlessly pulled up the scans she and Greef had taken of the hole cut into Gideon’s tie fighter. “It could have been something else,” she said steadily, easily picking up on Din’s agitation.

“He must have taken it during the purge,” Din said through a clenched jaw.

“Another reason to take him out as soon as we hear anything,” she said firmly.

She watched him take a breath and consciously let go of his anger. “We?” he finally asked, his tone more relaxed.

“You think I’d let you get all the glory?” she teased, “I’ll be pissed if you go after him without me.” The tone was light, but she knew he could see she was serious. This wasn’t something she wanted him to have to handle alone. He nodded solemnly, a wordless promise.

After a moment, she went on, “so what do these civil wars and the dark saber have to do with the Jedi?”

In response, Din pulled up a record from the index in front of him. It was the specification of a weapon labeled as a light saber. The schematics showed a bladed energy weapon that used a focusing crystal to form a cutting edge of incredible force and power.

“So the dark saber is a Jedi weapon?” she walked around the display in interest, trying to figure out how the weapon might work.

“Seems like a fair assumption,” Din agreed. “I’m going to see what I can find out about the connection between Mandalore and the Jedi, see if it will lead me to any Mandalorian connection that could help me.”

“Between that and finding out what we can about the kid’s training, should at least be a start,” she crossed her arms. “Any thoughts on what your next step is?”

“Waiting,” he said, sounding resigned, “My contact on Kashyyk says her father knows another Wookie who says he has met a Jedi. It’s a long shot, but if my contact can pass the message on, might get something back.”

“Hmmm,” she said, considering, “Long shot is better than no shot at all.”

He nodded in agreement.

“So where will you go?” she asked.

“Go?” Din sounded confused.

“Sure, what’s your next stop after Nevarro?” she wasn’t exactly looking forward to watching him and the kid leave again. Life certainly was more interesting with them around. But there was no reason to expect him to stay.

“Don’t plan to go anywhere,” he said, “all I can do for now is wait, keep the kid safe, see what I can find in all of this,” he gestured at the displays in front of them, “and make as many credits as I can.”

“And you’re going to do that on Nevarro?” she asked, surprised.

“That a problem?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his tone.

“No,” she said with a growing grin, “Not unless it’s going to be too upsetting for you.”

“Upsetting?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“When I beat you to all the good bounties, I mean,” she said triumphantly.

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that Dune,” his tone was a challenge.

“Guess we will,” she said, before adding, “It’ll be good to have you around,” with a genuine smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed easily. “I should go talk to Greef about it,” he finally pushed to his feet, “See if I can find somewhere to stay that’s not the _Crest_.”

Cara nodded at him as he scooped up the child and headed to find her boss.

She was left alone with her thoughts for a moment. She had learned more about Din in the past ten minutes than she had in all of the time she had known him. She liked it. She liked the way that he kept opening up to her, piece by piece. She liked the way that he hadn’t left her alone in her vulnerability after she told him about Coruscant.

Knowing that he would be there tomorrow, and the day after that felt…comforting, steady. How long had it been since she’d had that?

She’d had her drop team, people that she had trusted, relied on, who had been there for each other. That was different though. Her team was her team, and Din was…well, he was a friend. The kind she hadn’t had since Alderaan. The kind she hadn’t really thought she would ever have again.

It felt _good_ to have something like that in her life again. And, she realized with a lurch, it meant that she had something like that to lose again.


	7. Be Slow to Fall

Be slow to fall into friendship; but when thou art in, continue firm & constant.

  * Socrates



_Three Months Later_

“Come on Mando!” Greef hollered enthusiastically, “Don’t make me regret putting my credits on you!”

“You got ‘im, Dune,” the Cerean, Keida Telsh, shouted back, cutting through the noise of jeers, encouragements and credits changing hands as she and Din arm wrestled over a small table.

“The job is mine,” she said through clenched teeth, sweat beading on her forehead.

“That’s what you said last time,” Din answered, his breath coming heavy through his helmet.

“I maintain that the kid helped you,” she shot back.

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night Dune,” the back and forth a long standing and never successful attempt for each to distract the other from the contest of strength.

The child, long since accustomed to these not infrequent battles, watched with interest from his seat beside Din.

Then, looking back and forth between the two of them, he reached out a hand and closed his eyes…

And all of a sudden Din’s bicep twitched, his grip faltered, and she slammed his arm to the table.

“Ha!” she shouted, standing up and raising her arm in triumph as the crowd cheered (or groaned) and credits changed hands. “The puck is mine Mando,” she crowed, pulling the puck towards her.

“The kid distracted me,” he said, shooting the kid a look of betrayal, but unwilling to outright blame the child in public. Greef was still the only other resident of Nevarro that knew what the child could do, and they wanted to keep it that way.

“That’s because he likes me better,” she teased, picking the child up and spinning him around to his delight.

Several months of living in each other’s back pockets meant that she no longer had any fear of the kid mistaking her for an enemy. And it was hard to entirely avoid the “baby thing” when he was essentially permanently attached to her closest friend.

The thought of how close, how important, Din was slowly becoming to her had not stopped being terrifying. She strictly avoided thinking about it when she could, and when she couldn’t avoid it, she worked to build up careful walls to keep herself safe.

Living on Nevarro wasn’t the same as the open vulnerability of working a dangerous job. It felt like a continuation of those lazy days on Sorgan most of the time. They traded stories about the jobs they went on, they worked together on the information they had gained from the Jedi temple, they watched the kid and his mysterious toys.

They didn’t work together though. Mostly because no job that needed both of them had come along yet, but also because she preferred it that way. It was easier to keep those walls up without the adrenaline and danger, easy to avoid the need to open herself up any more than she already had.

“Hmmppph,” Din huffed at her, “that’s because you spoil him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser,” she said brightly. “I’ll let you win the next one,” she grinned as he shook his head at her in exasperation.

“Drinks on you when I’m back,” she said, sticking the puck in her pocket and heading for the door.

He nodded, watching her go.

He always watched until she was out of sight, heading for the small ad hoc space port that had grown up on Nevarro now that the Imperial presence was gone. It was like she could feel his eyes on her, even though she couldn’t see them.

It was…complicated, the way she felt about it. It had been so long since someone had cared when she came and went, cared that she was safe. There was part of her that craved it. But a larger part didn’t like to think about the fact that someone else would care if she never came back. It felt like a burden.

She shook off her morbid thoughts, quickly finding a pilot to take her where she needed to go.

Nothing like a good fire fight to cure melancholy.

________________________________________________

“Kriff,” she cursed under her breath as she threw herself across a gap between two roofs, a blaster bolt catching her across the calf.

She stumbled as she landed, pain lancing up her leg, but she kept running. Her pursuers were far behind her now, only a little farther and she could lose them in the market crowd down the street.

She slid off the roof and dropped down to ground level, wincing and holding her breath to avoid crying out. She forced herself to walk evenly as she skirted through an alley, lifting a jacket and a hat thrown across the back of a bench near some older men playing some sort of board game.

Her hair covered and the dark jacket over her shoulders, she cut through into the market crowd, moving with the flow of people. She kept a sharp eye out and saw her pursuers run into the end of the sea of people. It was only a few moments before they gave up and turned away.

She let out a breath of relief. One problem down.

Available information on the holonet had _not_ prepared her for the gang presence on this planet. The bounty had been easy enough, all the client wanted was proof of termination and the target hadn’t been all that hard to find.

The real problem had developed when the local gang leader caught wind of the fact that she had taken out his chief enforcer. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to take on the whole gang by herself, so getting out of town was her best choice.

Evading the pursuers was step one, but getting off planet was a different story entirely. The gang had the local port entirely locked down, there was no way she was getting out that way. As far as she knew, the nearest port that was not controlled by this particular gang was more than two days trek through tropical forest filled with poisonous local flora and fauna.

She sighed, threading through the market crowd and heading towards the edge of town. She really only had one option.

She found herself a place to hole up on the edge of town and pulled out a scanner. The terrain was pretty rough, but about a two hour walk south she could see an open space that looked big enough.

She picked up her com. “So,” she said resignedly, “I’ve run into a bit of trouble. Could use a ride, if you’ve got some time. Transmitting coordinates now.”

She let her head fall back against the wall, steeling herself for the trek ahead. She’d had worse than the blaster wound seeping blood down her leg, but it wasn’t exactly ideal for a two hour hike through dangerous territory.

She let out a breath, and a low curse and set out.

______________________________________

Thankfully, she made it to the open terrain without incident. Her injury, however, was not looking great. The constant motion had broken through the cauterized skin and blood was flowing freely now. The pain was getting dizzying, and night was falling. She sincerely hoped that her message had arrived without incident. If it had, she knew, he would either be here or would send word.

She found a spot to rest, leaning back against an outcropping, her blaster at the ready.

Thankfully it was only an hour later that she saw the _Razor Crest_ breaking atmosphere nearby. He must have lifted off only moments after she called. A complicated feeling bubbled up in her gut at the thought.

Now was not the time, though. She had lost too much blood. She was chilled and shaking, her skin pale in the falling light. She couldn’t quite bring herself to stand as she saw the _Crest’s_ ramp drop and Din running down it.

“Cara!” he shouted, casting his gaze around frantically.

“Here,” she managed, lifting her hand.

He sprinted towards her at top speed, kneeling beside her and looking her over head to foot.

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing his hands away as he ran them over her arms, checking for injuries. “It’s just my leg.”

She could hear him breathing hard as he gently examined her outstretched leg, taking in the open wound and the blood drenched leg of her pants.

Without speaking, he gathered her with an arm around her back and one under her knees and lifted her carefully, keeping his pace steady as he carried her to the _Crest_.

The silence was unnerving.

But not quite as unnerving as the sudden feeling of _awareness_.

She could feel the strength of his arms, smell his warm and slightly metallic scent that was beginning to grow familiar to her, feel his heat under her cheek where it rested against his arm.

“I could have walked you know,” she said, desperately casting around for a change of focus.

“Shhh,” Din said tensely, carrying her into the hold of the _Crest_ and setting her down gently.

He didn’t say a word as he climbed up to the cockpit.

She let her head fall back against the wall behind her as she watched the hold close up and felt the _Crest_ lift off.

She knew that she was exhausted and in pain, and that was never a time to put too much weight on weird emotional reactions. It wasn’t like she didn’t know that Din was strong and capable and competent.

It wasn’t even the first time she had looked at him with appreciation. She remembered moving slowly through the forests of Sorgan on their way to the village. She remembered noticing the way he stretched out, the shape of his body under the armor and the strength of his limbs.

But this was the first time that this warm feeling of _something more_ had crept in.

It was the blood loss. Had to be. No point in thinking about him that way anyways. From what she knew, Mandalorians lived like monks. Plus, the whole helmet and armor thing would probably get in the way.

She wondered if he had to keep his armor on all the time too, or if it was just the helmet… She shook of the thought immediately as he came back down the ladder, the kid under one arm.

“Din, don’t,” she said immediately, “he gets so tired…”

“He just wanted to see you,” he said, rather unceremoniously placing the fussing child in her lap. Immediately, he settled against her with a content sigh.

“What, he tell you that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as he dug out the med kit.

“He started crying about a half hour before you called,” he said stiffly, pulling at the fabric of her pants to test their strength.

“That’s…” she looked down at the child, wrapping an arm around him as his big eyes looked up at her, “That’s about when I got shot.”

Din didn’t answer, just pulled a pair of scissors out of the kit and attempted to remove the lower half of her pant leg.

“Reinforced,” she said, “Hold on for a second,” she stood, still balancing the kid in one arm, and unbuckled her belt, setting it aside before undoing the waist of her pants and shoving them down far enough so that she could sit back down. “Just do it quickly, okay?” she said, looking up at Din only to find him averting his eyes.

“Oh for kriffs sake,” she said defensively, his reaction making her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t before, “You’re going to have to look at my legs if you want to do anything for the blaster burn.”

“Just being polite,” he said quietly, his gaze still focused down as he pulled her pants off her good leg and inched the fabric down to the top of her wound where it was stuck fast.

“You’re being weird,” she said, her fatigue and pain and agitation getting the better of her. She didn’t know quite what was going on between the two of them, and all she wanted was for things to go back to normal, where she didn’t feel this unnerving warmth in her gut when she looked at him, and he didn’t pick her up like she was something worth caring for, and where he _talked_ to her.

“How should I be, Cara?” he said in exasperation, sitting back on his heels and finally looking into her eyes, “The kid starts going off, and then I get a call from you saying you’re in trouble and then silence. You could have been dead for all I knew. And then I find you a hard hike from the nearest town, half passed out and bleeding out through a blaster burn. Am I supposed to pretend that I wasn’t worried? That this is just a normal day?”

She didn’t think she’d ever heard him quite so agitated. She blew out a breath.

“Sorry,” she said finally, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He shrugged, “Part of the job,” he turned his focus back to her wound like his outburst hadn’t even happened.

“Not part of your job,” she said defensively, “You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle it. I would have found another way.”

He looked up, regarding her steadily for a long moment.

She blinked at him in growing discomfort.

“I’m going to say this once, and you’re going to listen, got it?” he said tensely.

She nodded.

“You are my _friend_ Cara Dune. The closest one I’ve got. I know you can handle yourself, and I know that the job is risky, but I’m always going to worry, and I’m always going to come for you when you need help. Can you just…” he paused for a moment, taking a breath. “Can you just let me have that? Please?”

She stared at him in surprise for a long moment. The depth of feeling in his voice brought tears to the corner of her eyes. How was she supposed to hold her distance, to build up walls, in the face of this?

She tilted her head back so he couldn’t see her eyes, blinking furiously. “Thank you for coming Din,” she finally said softly.

His steady hand closed around her ankle and his warm voice rumbled, “Always.”

And then the sadistic bastard ripped the leg of her pants off and away from her wound without so much as a warning.

She let out a squawk, echoed by the child who had been half asleep in her arms.

“You son of a _bitch_ ,” she hissed at him, but without much malice. She was honestly glad for the break in the intensity of the moment.

“You told me to do it quickly,” he said unapologetically as he carefully placed a bacta patch over the wound.

“Very funny,” she said, experimentally flexing her toes as the bacta began numbing the pain.

“Better?” he asked as he cleaned up the med kit.

“Yeah,” she acknowledged, “thanks”.

“Get some rest,” he said, gesturing towards his cabin and reaching over to take the clingy child from her, “only a couple of hours to Nevarro.”

She nodded, now that the pain and adrenaline was fading, she felt like she could sleep for a week.

She could _swear_ that Din’s eyes followed her a little too closely as she padded carefully across the hold in her underwear, but she dismissed the thought as she settled down in his bunk. Checking out her ass was probably against his code or something.

She was sure that, after a good sleep, whatever it was that she was feeling would be just as easily dismissed.


	8. The Shadow of a Man

“The shadow of a man can never stand up and walk on its own.”

  * From the film Kagemusha (Kurosawa, 1980)



It was going to be a bad day no matter what. Ten years hadn’t dulled the impact of it. She handled it the way she always did. She shuttered the windows in her bedroom, she blocked her coms, she locked her door, she pulled out a book bound in ancient leather from its storage space, and she lay in the dark waiting for it to pass.

There something different this year though. A persistent and unsubtle difference who didn’t take no for an answer.

She let him stand at her door for almost ten minutes, his soft voice and insistent knocking neither increasing nor decreasing in intensity.

She sighed and reached over to the panel beside her bed, opening the door.

“I’m fine, alright,” she said, “you can go.”

He didn’t listen, not that she really thought he would. Instead, he wordlessly joined her on the bed, propped up against her headboard, and handed her a stiff drink.

“Look,” she said, placing the drink on her side table, “I do this alone. I always have. I don’t want you here,” she could hear the way her voice trembled.

This is exactly why she didn’t want this. She couldn’t hold the pieces of herself together when he kept pulling at them.

“Yes you do,” he said with an infuriating certainty.

“Oh do I?” she scoffed at him, a knot in her throat threatening to choke her.

“You let me in,” he said simply.

She managed to hold herself in for a moment, arms wrapped tight around her chest, her teeth digging into her lip until she tasted blood.

But he was right. He usually was. It was infuriating sometimes. But today, she would let him have this victory, because for the first time in a decade, she let herself feel the loss of Alderaan.

She dissolved against him, her head falling to his shoulder and her tears falling against beskar. His arm wound around her shoulder, and he sat in silence as she sobbed.

It was some time before her tears ran out, but he was a steady warmth against her, his hand moving in slow circles against her arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest eventually calming her hiccupping sobs.

Once silence settled, he reached across her, pressing her against his chest as he reached the drink on the other side of the bed. He handed it to her as she sat back, hastily wiping her face.

She took a long pull, the burn in her throat a welcome distraction. She kept her face turned as she wiped at it with a corner of her blanket.

“You don’t have to hide from me, you know,” Din said quietly.

She sighed and gave up on her fruitless efforts to clear away the evidence of her tears, settling back against the headboard beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she said eventually, looking straight ahead. It was becoming a comfortable habit, sitting next to him like this, their faces looking forward even as they opened themselves to each other.

“Don’t,” he said, a surprising edge to his voice. “Don’t apologize for this,” he went on. “You listen to me, I listen to you. That’s how this works.”

“Okay,” she said, chastened, “Although to be fair I wasn’t saying much.”

He let out a short laugh. “I don’t know,” he said, “Might be the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He had a point. Was this brusque philosophy part of the Way as well? He could be infuriatingly insightful.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment as she sipped at her drink.

“What’s that?” he asked eventually, gesturing at the book sitting beside her on the bed.

She let out a long breath, picking it up and holding it on her lap.

“It’s a book,” she said, mostly just to see the upwards tilt of his helmet that meant he was rolling his eyes at her. “My parents gave it to me when I was a child.”

She opened it gently so he could see the beautifully illustrated cover page indicating it was a book of fairy tales. “The book binders and illustrators from Alderaan used to be highly sought after across the galaxy. It was the one piece of home I took with me when I left for higher education.”

“Higher education?” she was almost offended by the tone of surprise.

“Hard to avoid when you come from certain parts of Alderaan,” she said dismissively. “That changed in a hurry after…” she trailed off, not wanting to speak the name of the greatest tragedy in her life.

“This book must be almost one of a kind,” he said with a reverence she appreciated.

“Oh I could probably sell it and buy myself a ship,” she agreed easily.

“I’m glad you kept it instead,” he said. “Could I…?” he gestured towards the book, and she handed it to him gently.

He removed a glove so as not to catch the rough fabric against the pages. He turned to the first story, the illustrations as bright and captivating as she remembered from her childhood, and began to read.

______________________________________

There was a gentle silence between them for a few days following the anniversary of the destruction of Alderaan. Din had stayed with her all day and into the night, leaving only once mid-day to eat, bring her some food, and rescue the child from Greef.

He had finished the entire book of fairy tales, which the kid had greatly appreciated, and then listened to her tell him about her youth on Alderaan, her parents, her friends, until she drifted off to sleep.

She found there was a recovery period following that sort of vulnerability, like a wound healing over. It was hard to fall immediately back to their usual banter with the memory of that day fresh in their minds.

It was nice though. It felt…respectful of what had been shared, and not like he was being careful around her.

Until finally a holo from Din’s friend on Kashyyk threw them back into real life head first. It came to Din’s com while they were both reading through information on the Jedi in Greef’s back room. He pulled it up at one.

She didn’t understand Shyriiwook, so she had to wait until the message was done to ask what it was about. By his body language, she knew it was something serious.

“What is it?” she asked when the holo finished.

“That was Soosyylae, my contact on Kashyyk. She got in touch with her father’s friend.”

She immediately tensed, looking over to the child who was playing with a three dimensional puzzle, the pieces of which could apparently only be moved by the child’s power (she had tried several times with no luck).

“And?” she prompted.

“They say that all hope is not lost, and that I should take the child to a planet called Dagobah. She sent some coordinates,” he brought up the information on the display.

“It’s an uninhabited mud hole,” she said in surprise, looking at the readout.

“Hmmm,” Din agreed.

“You’re still going, aren’t you?” she said resignedly.

He nodded.

“You have no idea what this third hand message is leading you to,” she said stridently, “so I’m coming with you.”

He nodded again, which took a bit of the wind out of her sails, as she thought she was going to have to argue.

“Alright then,” she said, “Let’s get going.”

__________________________

The closer they got to Dagobah, the quieter Din became, and the more he reached out to touch or hold the child. She could see that he was worried about what they would learn.

Without saying anything, she quietly took over the small tasks of maintaining their hyperspace jump so that he could spend time with the kid. She stuck closely to the cockpit so he could be with the only clan he had.

She found, thinking of it that way, that she was also dreading their arrival. She had once told Din that leaving the child behind on Sorgan would break the kid’s heart. She now knew it wasn’t only the child’s heart that would break.

The landing was difficult and the fog surrounding the planet interfered with their sensors, but the child was unworried, eager even, toddling towards the door the moment they set down.

“Easy,” said Din, picking him up and holding him to his chest protectively, “We’ve got a bit of a walk to get where we are going.”

He walked in front, and her behind, the child’s closed pram. While there were no signs of technology they could discern, the planet was teeming with life. It seemed peaceful though, the air heavy with moisture. There was a slowness, a density to the atmosphere.

By the time they reached the coordinates that Soosyylae had provided them, she felt drenched to the skin with sweat and moisture.

What they found was hard to make out at first. It was some sort of dwelling, half dug into the earth and apparently made out of clay. It was grown over with clinging vines and the entrance was hard to find. It was even harder to crawl into the small structure, but it was not until they were both crouched safely inside that Din opened the pram and let the excitedly hooting child out.

“Ahhhh” a croaking voice sounded behind them, “the child, you have brought!”

They both swung around wildly, weapons aimed.

Only to find a transparent figure, glowing blue in the dim light. She heard Din take in a sharp breath.

The figure was undoubtedly the same species as the child.

“A hologram?” she said in a low voice to Din.

“No, no,” said the figure with a good humored chuckle, “through the Force, possible many things are.”

She could feel her eyebrows creep up to her hairline. They had both been reading about the Force, and the powers that a Jedi could obtain. Nowhere, though, had they read about this sort of…projection.

“Who are you,” Din asked, holding the eager child back from approaching the figure with a single hand.

“Master Yoda, you may call me,” said the figure calmly, his eyes fixed on the child.

“Master Yoda,” Din echoed, “You fought with Tarfful. He said you had died.”

“Oh,” Master Yoda said with an odd sort of laugh, “The truth, he told you,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “But never gone are those who one with the Force have become.”

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, sitting back cross legged, rubbing at her eyes like the figure before her would disappear.

“Hmmmm,” said Master Yoda, “and the child? What he does? Not real, is that as well?”

The _ghost of a Jedi Master_ made a good point. She sighed and resigned herself to rethinking everything she knew about the universe. Din, it seemed, had made a similar decision. He released the struggling child who toddled directly over to Master Yoda, his arms outstretched.

“Greetings youngling,” said Yoda, passing a hand through the child’s, causing the child too coo delightedly and sit rapt at his feet.

“He is like you,” said Din.

“Yes,” Yoda spoke to them, but had eyes only for the child, “a mystery, it is, how the child came to be in this galaxy. But my species, he is.”

“In this galaxy?” she asked skeptically.

“From another galaxy, my people are,” the ghostly figure went on. “If from Jedha a course you plot past Csilla, two years at hyperspace would it take you to reach it.”

Two _years_ at hyperspace. An unthinkably long distance.

“He is my foundling,” said Din, “and I will take him there.”

“Hmmm,” Yoda made an uncertain noise low in his throat, “Take him, you could. But return, you could not. Secretive, my people are, and untrusting.”

Din let out a long breath, “It is the Way. I have sworn to return him to his people.”

Cara could feel a sinking in her gut. He would take the child, and he would be lost to her forever.

“The Jedi, his people are,” Yoda said firmly.

“The Jedi are gone,” Din answered.

“No,” the figure looked fondly at the child who was trying and failing to grasp the edge of his ghostly robe, “Diminished yes, but not gone.”

“Do you know where I can find them?” Din asked cautiously.

She knew exactly what he was thinking. Finding the Jedi would mean leaving the child with them and moving on. It was an ending in a way even taking the child to another galaxy was not.

“Skywalker, a Jedi he is,” said Yoda simply.

“ _Luke_ Skywalker?” Cara burst out in shock, “Hero of the rebellion Luke Skywalker is a _Jedi_?” Her head was spinning. She had heard so many stories about him and his uncanny ability to stay alive that it almost made sense.

The ghostly figure nodded, “Train the child, Skywalker will,” he said, “But too young, he is.”

“Skywalker, or the child?” asked Din skeptically.

The figure let out another laugh, “Perceptive, you are Mandalorian. Both, the answer it.”

“We don’t know anything about how he will age. How will we know when he is ready? When Skywalker is ready.”

“Contact you, Skywalker will when the time is right,” said Yoda calmly, “Long, our infancy is,” he went on, “but quickly will he grow. Not long now until his childhood at an end will be.”

“How long?” asked Din, and she could hear the quiver in his voice. How long did he have with the child? How long did _they_ have.

“Hard to see, the future is,” said Yoda, “but safe the child is with you. And loved,” he laid a ghostly hand on the child’s head, and the child looked at him as if locked in deep conversation. “Home,” Yoda said eventually, “you will always be for him.”

She thought she heard a distinctly damp intake of breath through Din’s helmet.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

“My thanks you have Mandalorian, and you Carasynthia Dune.” At this point, she wasn’t even surprised that the figure knew, and used, her full name. “Good to know it is that cared for, he will be.”

“And you, youngling,” he looked down at the child, “May the Force be with you.”

He smiled serenely at them, and in a change too subtle to notice at first, slowly faded away.

__________

Whatever communication the child had had with Master Yoda on the planet, it had apparently tired him out. He slept peacefully as Din stood over him. Cara approached them quietly after locking in their jump.

“He okay?” she asked, coming to stand beside him.

Din nodded.

“You okay?” she asked, reaching out to put a hand on his forearm.

To her surprise, he turned to her and dropped his head to her shoulder. She could hear the sound of choked back tears through his modulator.

Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him. He responded by pulling her close, holding tight until his breathing evened out.

“I thought this would be the end,” he said finally, making no move to pull away, “I thought it was going to be goodbye.”

“It wasn’t,” she said soothingly.

“Not yet,” he said, finally stepping back, “But soon.”

“Soon is relative,” she said, her hand grabbing his before he could pull away entirely. “It could be years.” She gave his hand a squeeze, which he returned. She didn’t like this feeling, like she would turn herself inside out if she could heal his hurt.

He nodded, looking back to the child. “He’s still so young,” he said, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

“You’ve got time,” she reassured, even though she knew as well as he did that the child’s current helplessness couldn’t last, and they had no idea how quickly that switch would flip.

She had no idea what would happen when that switch flipped, when Din no longer needed a home base, no longer had to play it relatively safe and steady to protect the child. She couldn’t imagine that things would stay the same between them.

But she had time.


	9. Shoot, Don't Talk

“When you have to shoot…shoot, don’t talk.”

  * Eli Wallach in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, 1966



“I’ve got two coming on the left flank,” his voice was low and focused as they crouched behind a crumbling duracrete wall.

“Three on the right,” she said, checking the charge on her blaster, “Don’t look like a lot of trouble though,” she added, “they’re not even trying to keep out of sight.”

“Or they’re enough trouble that they don’t bother hiding,” Din added darkly.

“Only one way to find out,” she said with an electric grin.

She knew that she would see it mirrored on his face if she could as they looked at each other in anticipation.

“On three,” he said, “One, two…three!”

They burst out from behind their cover, barreling towards the armed men coming towards them.

She took out one with a shot that caught him in the neck, but the other two managed to scatter, meaning she would have to get closer. She heard Din fire off two tight shots to her left, and then the dull thud of fists against armor.

One of the men she was facing was trying to line up a shot, while the other came at her with a wild punch that she dodged easily. Dropping to the ground, she swept out her right leg, catching her opponent off balance.

Quickly shifting her weight, she threw her knee into his chest and pinned him there, a point blank blaster bolt ending the encounter.

She knew her other assailant was coming up behind her fast, but she could also hear Din sprinting towards her. She rolled to her right as the shot from her opponent landed useless on the ground. Jumping to her feet, she threw a powerful kick to the gut of the man advancing on her, doubling him over just as Din reached him, leaping down on him with an elbow to the back which knocked him to the ground.

One last shot and everything fell quiet.

“You were right,” Din said rather cheerfully, holstering his weapon. “Not a lot of trouble.”

“Greef did say that this target was an idiot with too much money and not enough sense,” she answered, swiping her hair back out of her face, “Probably didn’t really need the both of us.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed evenly, “Wouldn’t have been as fun though.”

She let out a deep and genuine laugh. “You’ve got a point,” she pulled out the tracking fob she held, and sure enough it clearly indicated their quarry was very close. If they had counted right, these five had been the last of the hired thugs.

Now just a quick trip back to the client on the _Crest_ and a pretty solid pay day.

Good fight, someone to watch her back, a pay day at the end of it? She had certainly had worse days. In fact, it was hard to think of days that were much better than getting into it with an opponent in front of her and Din at her side. But those sort of thoughts brought her back to things she had been ignoring for months now.

She wasn’t about to ruin a good day with pointless _feelings_ for a man who could never return them.

_________________________________

“Hold on a minute,” Din said as he heard her at the top of the ladder down to the hold. They were ready to head back to Nevarro, bounty claimed, and he had just been settling the kid down to sleep.

She froze immediately, long ingrained habit now. It meant he had his helmet off. But she could still hear the kid’s soft coos for a moment before she heard the cover of the pram close down.

“Everything okay?” she asked warily, not entirely sure what was going on.

“Yeah, come down,” he said, his voice now modulated through his helmet.

She stopped at the foot of the ladder, looking at him curiously, “Did…the kid didn’t see you, did he?”

“Sure he did,” Din shrugged.

“What?” she tensed, “I…you should have called me…I…” she could feel the blood draining from her face, panic creeping up her spine. He took off his helmet. The kid had seen his face.

“Cara,” he said, raising a soothing hand, “He’s part of my clan. I can take my helmet off in front of clan.”

“Oh,” she said, the relief flooding through her. “Well you might have mentioned that at some point before.” She said a bit shortly.

It was an awful lot of emotions to run through in a very short period of time.

“Didn’t…Didn’t think it was relevant,” he said very carefully.

She wondered, not for the first time, if talking about this at all was part of the taboo. She felt like she was tromping all over his traditions and beliefs without even realizing it half the time.

“No, it’s…” she waved him off awkwardly, “It’s not. I’ll just be more careful when I know you’re alone with the kid,” she said, forcing a smile.

It wasn’t relevant, not really. That didn’t stop the odd surge of jealousy that welled up though. The kid had seen his face, a face that he could never show to her.

He nodded steadily, and she moved on quickly to dispel the moment.

“If the kid’s asleep, we should go sit outside for a bit,” she said, “we’re not far from a nebula, and the night skies here are pretty fantastic.”

“I could use a rest before moving on,” he agreed easily, following her down the _Crest’_ s ramp and out into the open field they had landed in.

The night was warm, the grass was dry and smelled vaguely sweet, and the view was second to none.

She unceremoniously dropped to the ground and stretched out, her head resting on her folded arms, looking up at the night sky.

She felt Din settle in close to her, his helmet tipped upwards.

They lay there in silence for a long moment, before he asked quietly “You been sleeping okay?”

She supposed it made sense, they were lying side by side just like this on Coruscant the last time they had talked about this.

“Yeah, it’s been okay,” she answered after a moment. “You?”

“Been better,” he said, “But it’ll fade again.”

“What brought it up?” she asked, acutely aware that they were both keeping their voices low and intimate.

“That trouble you ran into with the gangs a few months ago,” he said, “Brought up some bad memories.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. That particular incident had brought some things up for her as well, some feelings that were hard to ignore when he was speaking like this, all soft and open.

“You want to talk about it?” she managed steadily.

He was quiet for a long moment, and she thought maybe that was the end of it. But he started speaking again, his tone carefully controlled.

“I didn’t always work alone,” he said, “After the Empire took over Mandalore. I was…I was angry I guess. I was young. I dealt with it by running towards a fight whenever I could. Started running jobs with a bad group.”

“What kind of bad?” she asked after he didn’t go on.

“The kind that doesn’t care about collateral damage,” he said succinctly, “the kind that doesn’t care who’s paying or why.”

“When I was a teenager,” she said, “I cut off all my hair.”

She was rewarded with a sharp laugh from beside her.

“You laugh,” she said, “But long hair was a big deal on Alderaan. It was scandalous.”

“I would like to have seen that,” he said, his voice a bit less controlled now, “Cara Dune, teenaged rebel.”

“Naw,” she said, “I was a brat.”

“Now that I believe,” he answered back quickly.

“So what happened with your teenaged rebellion,” she prompted.

He let out a sigh. “I made some bad choices. People that shouldn’t have been in the line of fire got hurt. I got caught up in being the best, the first in, the last out. That’s what I dream about most of the time. Innocent people who died because of me. It’s not who we are,” his voice was think with emotion, “it’s not who _I_ am.”

“I know,” she said, reaching out and closing her hand around his wrist, feeling an irresistible pull to reassure him.

He took a deep breath.

“So why did you leave?” she asked gently.

“I wish I could say it was because I wised up,” he said darkly, “but I got into a…different kind of trouble and had to leave the group because of it.”

“Oh?” she prompted.

“A woman,” he said, “A Twi’lek named Xi’an.”

She felt her heart drop into her stomach, immediately unsure whether she wanted to hear this.

“She was…she was persistent,” he said diplomatically, “and in the end she wanted something I couldn’t give her.”

A heaviness settled in her gut. Of course he couldn’t. It was the same reason that the simmering feelings that she refused to name were pointless and best ignored. It wasn’t the Way, or whatever saying the Mandalorians had for situations like this.

“Didn’t take the rejection all that well I take it?” she managed as evenly as she could.

“Understatement,” he said. “But in the end, it was an opportunity. Made me take a long look at myself, and I didn’t particularly like what I saw. Spent some time back with my people, surrounded by the Way. I remembered who I was.”

“A Mandalorian,” she said, not so much a question as a statement.

“Hmmm,” Din said evenly.

“Did it help,” she said after a quiet moment, “to tell me about it, I mean.”

He turned his head away from the sky to look at her, “You always help Cara,” he said gently.

And she had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying. Not naming the feelings didn’t make them go away. It didn’t make it hurt any less to hear him put voice to what she had before only assumed.

He was a Mandalorian, and that meant that he could never give her what she wanted. And she could never, ever ask for it.


	10. I Won't Be Wronged

“I won't be wronged. I won't be insulted. I won't be laid a-hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them.”

― John Wayne "The Shootist"

She knew it wasn’t going to be an easy job. The very fact that the two of them were taking it together made that clear. But, as they stumbled up the ramp of the _Crest_ , holding each other upright, she considered that they may have underestimated.

The job was done, and the _Crest_ was lifting off, but the recovery was going to take some time.

Din slid down the bulkhead to sit beside her as they both caught their breath.

“Well,” she finally said, “That was something.”

“Almost not worth the payday,” his voice was strained from under his helmet.

“Almost,” she agreed. “What’ve you got?” She turned towards him, surveying him carefully. She knew there was something wrong with his right leg. He had been favoring it for at least the last half hour. And his breathing was labored, so there was something else.

“Lucky shot to the ribs,” he said, lifting his left arm with a groan so she should see the bright red blood streaked across beskar from a wound that caught him under the arm, right between armored plates.

She sucked in a breath, “Broken?” she asked, gently helping him settled his arm across his chest so she could take a look.

“Cracked maybe,” he said, “the ribs aren’t too bad. Blaster burn didn’t cauterize though.”

“And your leg?”

“Right ankle,” he said, “definitely broken.”

“Let’s get your boot off before it swells up too much,” she said, pushing away from the wall painfully.

“Your inventory first,” he said, looking over at her expectantly.

“Better off than you,” she said, managing a tired grin, “Bit dizzy from that knock to the head, ribs are sore,” she gestured at the burnt mark in the centre of her chest where her armor had taken a direct hit, “Feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“You gotta stay awake,” he said anxiously, “Your head…”

“I know,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, “I will. Just let me grab some stims and let’s take care of you, huh?”

She didn’t wait for a response as she painfully hauled herself to her feet and found the med-kit. A quick pain stim took the edge off of the throbbing in her ribs and made it easier for her to focus. She crossed her legs and sat by his foot.

“Is this okay?” she asked, reaching for his right boot, looking up at him nervously. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do about a broken ankle, cracked ribs, and a blaster wound if he couldn’t take off his armor.

“Yes,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “It’s really just the helmet.”

Despite the pain, the exhaustion, the dizziness, his comment set a low fire in her belly. She desperately avoided that particular mental image and instead set to work unfastening his boot.

He hissed in pain as she started to pull at it.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically, but didn’t stop until she had succeeded in removing it.

When his ankle was bare and the bottom of his pants rolled up, she could see the full extent of the injury. It did not look good. Running around on a broken ankle didn’t exactly help matters. His ankle and foot were swollen and purple. She ran the medical scanner over the joint, quickly confirming what he had already known.

“Definitely broken,” she said, as she injected the ankle with the appropriate stim, wincing at the pained noise that escaped him, but it was followed by a sigh of relief as the stim went to work. She wrapped the joint carefully, trying to avoid noting the softness of his browned skin, or the solid line of his exposed calf.

It was going to get worse before it got better.

“Let’s take a look at your ribs,” she said, scooting up to his side, “You sure I can take this off?” she said cautiously, her fingers at the buckle of his chest plate.

He just nodded, his breathing picking up as she removed the beskar plates protecting his torso. It had to hurt. The blaster wound was looking worse and worse the more exposed it got. The fabric he wore under his armor was soaked almost black with blood down his side.

“This thing come off easy?” she asked, looking for any kind of fastener on the fabric as she removed his gauntlets.

“Up the back,” he said, his voice strained as he leaned forward with a groan to give her access.

She was able to unfasten the material without much trouble, pulling it away from him from the front and leaving him armored from the waist down, but wearing nothing but his helmet from the waist up.

Her breath caught. It wasn’t only the violently bruised left side of his ribs and the deep score of the freely bleeding blaster wound. It was also the bronzed skin of his torso, the hard line of his abdominal muscles, tense against the pain she was no doubt inflicting, the surprisingly delicate line of his collar bone.

“That bad?” he asked weakly, and she realized she had been silent for a long moment.

“Just admiring the view,” she said with a wink, deflecting the truth of the matter with a joke as she usually did.

Din scoffed at her. “Just tell me how bad it is,” he said.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, reaching for a sterile wipe to clean away the blood. “Wish those thugs had sprung for a higher quality of blaster though. It’s hardly cauterized at all. Probably why it’s so painful. It’s really not that deep.”

She carefully cleaned away the blood from the edges of the wound, watching his stomach clench and twitch as she did. A quick scan told her his ribs were, in fact, only cracked. She wondered just how many injuries it took to tell the difference between broken and cracked that accurately.

Carefully placing a bacta patch over the wound, she lifted her head to look at him, “You want the ribs wrapped?” she asked.

He took an experimental breath. “I think its fine,” he said after a moment.

She nodded, settling back down next to him against the bulkhead, incredibly conscious of the fact that he was sitting next to her half naked, when up to this point, she’d rarely seen a hand or a forearm.

She busied herself by removing her armor from her upper body, hissing as her chest plate pulled away from her bruised and raw ribs.

“You want me to take a look at your ribs?” he asked.

The thought of taking off her shirt in front of him was not something she was quite ready to face. “Just bruised,” she said evenly.

He nodded, his helmeted head looking oddly out of proportion to his bare torso.

The thought startled a laugh out of her, and Din looked at her questioningly.

“It’s quite the look,” she said, “With the helmet and everything,” she gestured towards him helplessly.

“You sure your head’s okay?” he asked, but his tone was amused.

“Fine,” she said, even though she could feel a headache creeping up her spine. “I just want to close my eyes for a bit.”

Din looked towards her, radiating concern, “I’ll make sure you stay awake,” he said as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Talk to me,” she said after a moment, as she felt sleep creeping up on her.

“We shouldn’t do this anymore,” he said after a moment.

Her gut lurched, but she kept her eyes closed and asked “Do what?”

“Work jobs together, not unless we have to.”

“You think that taking this one alone would have gone well for you?” she asked skeptically.

“At least I would know the kid had someone to look out for him,” Din said seriously.

She swallowed heavily. It wasn’t a surprising statement. Of course she would look out for the kid if anything happened to him. That kid was probably the only other person in the universe who would miss him like she would. And when had _that_ happened, exactly?

“I know you don’t do the baby thing,” Din added hastily after her silence stretched on for too long, “but I know you would find someone to take care of him.”

The moment he suggested it, she knew she could never do that.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, “I’d never hand the kid off to anyone else. You know that.”

She heard let out a heavy sigh.

“Cara…you,” he trailed off, sounding almost wistful, “thank you,” he finished finally.

“Try not to let it happen though, hey?” she asked, feeling herself falling quickly towards sleep.

“Shhh,” he said, “you should be okay to sleep for a bit, I’ll wake you up in a bit to check on your head.”

She wondered, as she drifted off, if he knew just how much she worried about him, and how much she worried about what would happen if these _feelings_ didn’t go away, and how long she could stand this.

_______

Din threw himself into a seat beside her as she sat in Greef’s place, her heels kicked up and a drink in her hand.

“The kid giving you trouble?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. He had been fussy all day, which meant bedtime had probably been a struggle.

“I miss IG 11,” was all Din said.

Her eyebrows climbed in surprise, “that bad, huh?”

He rubbed his hand behind his neck tiredly, “The kid’s fine,” he said tiredly, “he’s just a kid. It’s more that having a droid that could keep him safe when I was on a job was good.”

She already knew that it worried him, taking the child with him when he went out, even though the kid could now be relied on to stay inside the _Crest_ …mostly.

It _would_ be helpful. That way they could work together again, knowing the kid was safe. This seemed to be what was on Din’s mind as well.

“There’s some big bounties on the table. If the kid was safe here, we could probably take them.”

“Hmmm,” she said pensively, “Too bad the droid couldn’t be replaced.”

Din nodded, “To get a caretaking droid with those kind of defensive capabilities, you’d have to get to the core and have enough credits to buy a whole ship.”

“Could be worth it,” she said cautiously. “Doesn’t seem like the kid’s in a big hurry to grow up yet. Could be years of this.”

“Can’t afford it,” Din said heavily, “Even with all the jobs we’ve been working, it’s not like we’re swimming in credits. Plus, as soon as the Armorer can put me in contact with the new covert, some of it has to go to care for the foundlings.”

Cara nodded, letting the matter drop for the moment, but it stayed with her, an idea germinating in the back of her mind.

It would be far better to be able to safely leave the child behind, or even on the _Crest_ with a protector, than what Din was doing now. Plus, when the time came, she knew that they both would feel better if they left the kid with some protection when it was time for him to go. A caretaker droid like that would always be a tie back to Din, back to her, even after the child left them for the Jedi.

There was only one way she would ever be able to afford it.

She let the thought of what she would give up sit next to the thought of what would be gained for long weeks before she made the decision.

The next time a job took her close to the core, she found a contact and made a deal.

__________

“Hey,” she stuck her head into the back room where Din was working through the Jedi temple records, “You have a second?”

“Sure,” he stood, following her down the hall to a small office.

“Meet E-3NO,” she said, gesturing at the vaguely humanoid droid sitting in the room’s single chair, “top of the line childcare and defense droid.”

Din looked between her and the droid for a long moment, “Cara,” he said finally, “we don’t have the credits for this.”

“Didn’t touch any credits,” she said, “I made a trade.”

“For what?” Din’s voice was full of trepidation.

“My book,” she said staunchly.

“Your book from home?” he said, alarm creeping into his voice, “Cara, no. I can’t let you do that. Take it back. Undo this.”

“I can’t,” she said, looking at him steadily, “and I don’t want to.”

“I can’t be the reason you give that up,” he said, his agitation growing, “I _can’t_ , Cara please undo this.”

“Hey,” she said sharply, “The droid will make things better, safer, yes?”

“Of course, but I…” she cut him off before he could go on.

“And the book was mine to do with as I wanted,” she prodded.

“Yes,” he said heavily.

“This is the choice I made,” she said, her arms crossed, “Will you respect it?”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she could feel his eyes searching hers. Finally, he nodded, and with a hitching breath, he threw his arms around her shoulders almost violently.

“I can’t ever repay you for this,” his voice was close and warm.

“There’s nothing to repay,” she said, the closeness of him was dizzying. “The book is just an object, but the kid is a living, breathing person who needs everything we can give him. Giving away the book doesn’t erase my memories, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to the kid when I could have prevented it.”

Din didn’t say anything, and they just stood there for a long moment until they were interrupted by a tinny voice saying, “My apologies for the interruption master, mistress.”

Din stepped away from her, looking towards the droid.

“I will leave you in peace at once, if you could introduce me to my charge?”

“Of course,” said Din, “Follow me.”

____________

When the anniversary of the destruction of Alderaan came around again, she didn’t bother locking her door. She let him in at once, knowing that the kid was safe with the droid, who they had taken to calling Eno.

He carried a drink, same as last year, but he also carried a flat, square package wrapped in plain paper. He settled in beside her, leaning against the headboard of her bed, and handed over the package.

“What’s this?” she asked cautiously.

“Open it and find out,” he said evenly.

As the wrapping fell away under her fingers, she gasped. It was a framed illustration, very similar to the type that had appeared in her childhood storybook. It was an image from one of her favorite Alderaanian fairy tales, a girl who had disguised herself as a warrior and gone to battle to save her family. This particular image depicted the girl with black hair and a defiant expression that immediately called to her.

“How did you…” she gasped, running a finger down the frame.

“I couldn’t replace the book,” he said quietly, “but I could at least give you a piece of something from your home.”

“Oh Din,” she let out a sigh and let her head fall to his shoulder, “Thank you.”

She let out a shaking breath. This day was always hard, and as much as it helped to have him here, it also made it very difficult to continue ignoring what had changed in her heart.

She was in love with him. There was no point in denying it any more. It didn’t change anything, didn’t make falling in love with a Mandalorian any less hopeless. At least with the feeling named, if only to herself, she could start thinking about how in the hell she was going to get over it.


	11. A Bit in My Mouth

I don't think I like being in love. It puts a bit in my mouth.

  * Barbara Stanwyck in The Furies (1950)



She knew it was a mistake the moment it started, but she was drunk, and Din was sitting in the corner with the child, and she just wanted to _forget_.

The woman close at her side in the booth let out a long sigh, “Get out of here Dune.”

She turned her attention back to the woman beside her. She had walked into Greef’s that evening, and she was fierce and beautiful, and Cara had decided that the only way to forget about Din was to start thinking about someone else.

“What?” she responded with surprise to…Taran? Talan? What was it again?

The woman grinned at her, “You don’t want to be here, you want to be over there with that bucket head who won’t stop looking at you.”

“He’s not…” she cut a quick glance over to Din, only to see him look away.

She let out a huff. “He’s just a friend.” She said, “He worries.”

“If you ask me,” the woman said, leaning back and stretching out her long legs, “he’s worried I’m going to run away with you and leave him all alone and desperate over there.”

Cara snorted, “He’s a Mandalorian. That’s not really their style,” she couldn’t help the bitter resentment that crept into her voice.

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Oh it’s like that, is it?”

“Like what?” she asked defensively.

The woman shook her head good with good humor. “Look, it’s been a pleasure Dune, but I’m going go talk to someone who isn’t locked in orbit with a love sick Mandalorian.” She planted a kiss on Cara’s forehead in an almost motherly way, and sauntered towards the bar without another word.

Love sick Mandalorian. As if. She was the one mired in hopelessly unrequited feelings.

She meandered over to Din’s table and sat down with a sigh.

He looked at her, his helmet at an inquisitive angle.

“Don’t ask,” she said, brushing aside his question and ordering another drink as a droid passed by.

After a moment, she broke through the silence. “How do you do it?” she knew the question was unwise, but she had been drinking, and she wanted to know how he was able to stay so far removed from the morass of feelings and desire and frustration that she could not climb out of.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and observing here with a gaze that always saw more than she wanted to show.

“The Mandalorian thing,” she went on aimlessly, “you don’t have to deal with any of this shit.”

“What shit?” he asked, clearly vaguely amused at her rambling.

“Sex!” she burst out, “ _Feelings_ ,” it came out like a curse.

He looked at her for a long moment. “Cara,” he said, “where exactly do you think Mandalorian children come from?”

“Foundlings,” she said decisively.

“Not _all_ Mandalorians are foundlings,” he was _laughing_ at her, she could swear it. “We reproduce just like all species. You didn’t really think that all Mandalorians were monks, did you?”

“Well I…” she was confused, and wishes she was either a bit more sober or a bit more drunk for this, “Yes,” she said eventually with a shrug.

This was, apparently, not the answer he was expecting, because he at once became very still. “I told you about Xi’an,” he said, like it was an explanation.

“Yeah!” she said, “You said she pursued you, but you couldn’t do that sort of thing so you rejected her!”

“I…” Din paused for a moment, “It’s not that we didn’t…” Cara was very thankful that he chose not to finish the thought. “I just couldn’t give her what she wanted. I wasn’t…I just wasn’t ever in love with her.”

The stunning realization that Din Djarin had had a _sexual relationship_ with this Xi’an made her run hot and cold all at once. She had been so sure, for well over a year now, that a relationship was just something he didn’t want, couldn’t have.

But it turned out he _could_.

Thankfully, before her she could wander too far down that path, the second half of the thought arrived. He _could_ be involved with someone, which meant he just didn’t want to be. Not with her.

“That, uh…” she cleared her throat awkwardly, “That’s surprising,” she finally managed.

“Come on,” he said, sounding oddly vulnerable, “I’m not _that_ bad, am I?”

She let out a half hysterical laugh, “No,” she said, “You’re not that bad. I’ve just never seen you…I’ve just never seen it, is all.”

“Haven’t been looking for anything like that,” he said, and she could tell he was _looking_ at her steadily. “Not for a while now.”

“Got it,” she said, trying for nonchalance.

“You haven’t either,” he went on searchingly, “not until now.”

“Been busy,” she said tightly, “s’this a problem for you?” she gestured over to where the woman she had been talking too was sitting by the bar.

Din sat back, turning his gaze down towards the kid, “Of course not,” he said evenly, “You should enjoy yourself.”

She nodded firmly, standing up and stalking towards the bar. At the last minute though, she bypassed it and left, heading for her rooms. A distraction clearly wasn’t going to work.

She tossed and turned for a long time after getting into bed.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what she had learned. Din had been _with_ Xi’an. Probably with others too. She knew full well, by now, that it was only the helmet that had to stay on. There was plenty of room for a sexual relationship within those boundaries.

She had to imagine that there were many women who wouldn’t mind the helmet for a man like him, at least for a while. She knew full well that she never needed to see his face to know how she felt about him.

She let out a resigned sigh. This wouldn’t be the first time that she let her thoughts drift to Din Djarin as her hand slipped under the waist of her pants, and it wouldn’t be the last. There was something more _immediate_ about it now though, a level of possibility that hadn’t existed before.

But along with that came the knowledge that it was his choice that made anything more impossible, not his creed.

_______________

“What about this one,” she said, pulling up a message from Greef’s queue.

It was less a bounty and more a call for mercenaries. Apparently a village on a backwater planet had scraped together enough credits to hire someone to deal with a local warlord.

“Not a huge payout,” he said, considering, “considering it would probably take the two of us if their numbers are correct”.

“Sure,” she said easily, “but look at this place,” she pulled up a series of images showing rolling green hills dotted with red fauna, and a clear sky with a vaguely purple hue.

“You want to go for the scenery?” Din asked with amused surprise.

“How else are we supposed to take a vacation?” she asked.

“A vacation?” he asked skeptically.

“Do some good, meet some nice villagers, maybe they even have spotchka and shrimp like the last one.”

He nodded slowly, “A vacation, then.”

_______

While the numbers had been correct, the sort of warlord that set up on a planet this peaceful and out of the way wasn’t exactly the most competent sort. It hadn’t taken them more than a day to raise enough hell to convince them to move on.

It turned out that the villagers _did_ have a drink that was something like spotchka, even though there was no shrimp, and they were just as happy as the villagers on Sorgan were to allow them to stay for a while to make sure that the threat didn’t creep back as quickly as it had gone.

They sat side by side in surprisingly comfortable woven chairs, watching the child play with some of the local children. Their species was a bit closer to the child in size, so he was folded into their games without much trouble.

Eno stood to the side, carefully observing the play.

“This is nice,” she said, breathing deeply and letting her eyes fall shut.

“Hmmm,” Din said in agreement.

“You know, maybe it’s time to leave Nevarro, do more of this,” she mused. “I know we’ve still heard nothing about Gideon, but it might be safer to be on the move.”

Din was quiet for a moment, “You might be right,” he said quietly, “But I…” he fell silent without finishing.

“But?” she prompted curiously after a moment, there wasn’t much that he was hesitant to talk to her about after all this time.

“I’d miss you, Cara Dune,” he said eventually.

That dark little know in the pit of her stomach where she balled up all that she felt for him made itself known, “Oh,” she said, “I just thought that I would…No, you’re right, it’s always really been just you and the kid.”

He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, looking at her with a physical intensity that she could feel. “You would come with us?” he asked.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?” she answered a little bit helplessly.

They didn’t talk about it, what would happen in the future, but they spent so much time talking about themselves as a “we” that she had just assumed…she shouldn’t have, she supposed.

“I thought that you…” he paused, seeming to collect himself for a moment, “You’ve always said that you wanted to settle down somewhere, stop playing soldier. That’s just…that’s never going to be my life.”

She had said that, hadn’t she? At the time, she had firmly believed it. She thought that was the only way she could pull herself together, be made whole. Things had changed though, _she_ had changed.

She thought for a moment about how she could explain without giving away too much.

“When we first met,” she began, “it had been less than a year since I was court marshalled out of the military, since I killed…him,” she knew Din would know what she was talking about. He had never asked her anything specific about the admiral who had held her captive on Coruscant, but he was well aware of that part of her past.

“I thought I needed to find something that was…normal, I guess. Something stable and ordinary, something that felt like _before_.”

Din nodded, “Home,” he said simply.

Her answering smile was shot through with sadness. Sometimes it hurt, how well he understood her.

“Turns out that you can’t go back,” she said, “and that home isn’t always a place, I guess.”

She couldn’t place what she saw in Din in that moment. She could read him just as well as if she could see his face clearly by this point, but there was something in the cant of head and the angle of his shoulders that was unfamiliar to her.

“And you are anything but ordinary,” he finally said and, to her surprise, reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I suppose,” she said, willing her voice to stay level and her breath even.

Din finally sat back against his chair again. She had no idea what that moment had been, but it seemed like it had passed now.

“Backwater mercenaries, hey?” he said after a breath, “I like it.”

________

Greef was not particularly pleased to see them go. They had made him a fair amount of money over the last few years. Then again, the rest of the Guild was thrilled that more of the best bounties would be up for grabs.

Mercenary work wasn’t as lucrative, but it was plentiful, and between them they had a good store of credits. Enough to add a narrow cabin for Cara in the hold of the _Crest_ with plenty left to live on for a good long while.

The jobs could be longer, and the locations weren’t exactly the most exciting parts of the galaxy, but the kid was thriving, staying for weeks at a time in the same place. He made friends easily, and became quite accustomed to moving on. It was a better life for him.

Cara wasn’t sure if things were better now for her, or far worse. She had no distance from him, not ever. It wasn’t that he was difficult to live with. In fact it was surprisingly easy.

It was the proximity.

She found herself wondering more and more what he looked like under the helmet. She thought about the fact that he had probably never kissed anyone more often than she would like to admit. She sat next to him sipping caf on sleepy morning in the _Crest_. She worked and lived side by side with him when they were on planet.

And something had changed for him too. He had never been particularly physical, only in the odd moment of pain or closeness. But now, he was _everywhere_. His hand was on the small of her back as he moved past her in the cockpit, his hand reached out to smooth back her hair, or pick foliage off her shirt.

They still sat side by side in the evening, watching the stars if the planet they were on had any to see, but now he sat close enough that her arm brushed against her, lighting a low fire in her belly every single time.

It was driving her absolutely crazy.

They were currently on a small moon of Mimban, having brought an end to a mining dispute that had turned ugly.

Apparently local tradition dictated that celebrations of any kind were auspicious occasions for marriage, so they were currently sitting around a bonfire watching the marriage of three young couples according to the local customs. It appeared to involve the binding of wrists and the exchange of gifts. It was all rather beautiful, she thought.

“Do Mandalorians get married?” asked the young man who sat on the other side of Din. He had been the one who called them, against the wishes of the village elders. A brave kid whose risk had paid off, as they had arrived just in time to rescue the captured elders and bring matters to an end.

“Yes,” said Din evenly, “It’s not like this though,” he gestured at the couples currently holding cups for the other to drink from with what seemed to be a lot of laughing and spilling.

“What’s it like?” the kids asked.

She took a healthy gulp of her drink, which burned as it slid down her throat. She was both intensely curious and very reluctant to know.

“It’s done privately,” he said, “and simply. Just the exchange of words.”

Just then, a cheer went up as the couples were declared married and kissed enthusiastically.

“I guess you don’t kiss the bride,” the kid chuckled.

“We do,” Din said simply.

“But how?” the kid asked the question which was suddenly burning in her own mind. She was pointedly focused on the wedded couples, and not on the conversation going on beside her, but she could swear Din looked over at her before answering.

“A spouse is part of your clan,” he said evenly, “and clan can see your face.”

Worse. She thought. This was definitely worse than before.

________

She had been thrown entirely off balance by what she had learned on the moon of Mimban. Everything felt out of alignment. It was hard to be around him without thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

Every time he touched her, a thrill ran down her spine that was far out of step with the innocent contact.

And, for better or worse, she reacted like she often did.

“So what happens if married Mandalorians take of their helmets and don’t like what they see?” she teased as they slung heavy sandbags to form a barricade just outside the small village that was their next destination.

Din didn’t answer her, just kept throwing the bags her way.

“That first kiss must by really awkward,” she barreled forward, “no one would know what they were doing.”

“Cara,” Din said warningly, and she could hear that he wasn’t amused.

Why would he be, really? She was standing here making fun of one of the most important moments a Mandalorian would ever have in their lives. It was just that she felt like if she stopped joking about it, everything she was trying to hide would just tumble out of her.

She couldn’t let that happen. It would ruin what they had. If she told him how she felt, he would have to put into words that he didn’t want that from her. She didn’t want to face that. Didn’t know if she could.

“So do Mandalorian brides where some sort of special armor?” she went on, “or just a veil over the helmet.”

Din stopped, frozen and tense. And she knew at once she had gone too far.

“I know that this is a game for you,” he said bitingly, “but it’s _real_ for me. It’s not a joke.”

“Din,” she started, uncertain in the face of his anger, “I’m…”

“Just don’t,” he cut her off and stalked away.

They were patrolling different edges of the village when the fight came to them. Like most of their jobs these days, they ended it quickly and efficiently, with hardly any contact.

Unlike other times, there was no celebration. Instead, Din went directly into the cabin he was staying in with the kid without a word.

___________

Her eyes were red rimmed and scratchy as she sat next to a banked fire, sipping caf in the crisp morning air the next day.

She knew Din could see it as he walked up and sat next to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said at once, sounding just a wrung out as she felt.

“No,” she said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I know that it’s something important to your people,” she found the words spilling out of her without volition, “I know what it means to take that helmet off. I was curious, how could I not be? But I would never…I mean, I don’t need to see your face. I just…” she blew out a breath, trying to pull herself together. “I was out of line,” she finally finished.

He was looking at her again, in that way she couldn’t read. He reached out and took one of her hands in his.

“Cara,” he sounded determined, “unless my helmet was removed in battle, there is only one way you would ever see my face. That’s not a joke to me, okay?”

He was willing her to understand something, and she felt like it was clear enough. He wasn’t ever going to marry her, she wasn’t ever going to see his face, and she was making him uncomfortable by joking about it, by even raising the idea.

He could tell. He knew how she felt. It was just like him to give her this out, this clean way to take a step back without ever having to say anything out loud.

She felt empty and hollow, but plastered a weak grin onto her face, “Yeah, I got it.” She said.

They both were trying so hard after that. He kept his physical distance now, and she never once brought up anything about his creed.

But it just wasn’t the same. Waking up on the _Crest_ every morning, it was like her heart was shattering again every morning. And it couldn’t go on.

They picked up a job on a planet with an active space port, and she took her chance when it was done.

“I’ve got a puck I can’t pass up,” she said as they walked into the space port where the _Crest_ was docked.

Din froze beside her, and she drew to a stop as well. “Where?” he asked, “I’m sure we can make it happen in between jobs.”

“No,” she said firmly, her arms crossed protectively around her chest. “You know we can’t go on like this.”

“Cara,” she could hear the pain in his voice, but she couldn’t let it sway her.

“Not forever,” she said with a wan smile, “I just need some time.”

Time to get over him, time to mend her hear, time to reconcile herself with being his friend only. With the fact that one day, he was sure to meet the person he _did_ want to commit himself to.

“Please,” was all he said, but she could hear the resignation in his voice.

“I’ll be seeing you,” she said, unable to stop the tears pooling at the corner of her eyes.

He pulled her in tight for a breathless moment, and she breathed deeply, committing the feel of him, the scent of him to her memory.

After a moment, he released her, and she turned to the child who was looking up at her, his dropping ears and wide unhappy eyes telling her that he had already picked up on the gist of what was happening.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, placing a hand on his warm fuzzy head.

Then the kid let out an unhappy little bleat, and she couldn’t be there anymore. She turned on her heel and walked away into the busy spaceport. She only turned around once, but she clearly saw the two of them standing there, watching her go until she was out of sight.


	12. Ashes

"When a fire burns itself out, all you have left is ashes."

  * Joan Crawford in Johnny Guitar



  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



If you ever get asked to do a job on Hoth, I recommend passing it up. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. Say hi to the kid for me.

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



Good advice. We’re somewhere warm right now, easy job and a good place to lay low for a while. The kid misses you.

  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



Greef is happy enough to have me back, it seems. Enough to pass some good pucks my way anyways. Headed for a big score on a high roller on Cantobite. Wish me luck!

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



You don’t need luck Dune. Just, be careful. Security on Cantobite is intense. Don’t get caught.

  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



(voice somewhat muffled) Well, you were right about Cantobite. Lost a tooth for my trouble. Probably going to take a week for this swelling to go down. Still, I got the target, so I can handle a few bruises. Give that kid a squeeze for me.

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



That looks painful. I hope you’re feeling better. The kid has apparently unlocked something else in that box of his that makes incredibly loud noises at all hours of the night. How that is training him, I can’t tell. And maybe take a few easy jobs for a while hey? No need to ask for any more trouble than you need. Stay safe.

  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



Wouldn’t be any fun without the trouble would it? Greef’s got something for me on a world with an imperial presence. It’ll be good to get some target practice on the Imps again. Just like old times.

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



How is that staying safe, Dune? Based on the chatter I’ve been hearing you’re going after trouble hard and fast. I’m worried. Ease up will you? The kid would like to see you again soon. Stay on Nevarro for a while. We could come. Tell me if that’s okay. Please.

  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



You worry too much. I’m fine. In fact, I picked up some good intel from my last job. Sounds like Gideon has started to build up support, but his operation is still small. Should be easy pickings. So next time I call, you and the kid should be free and clear.

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare go after Gideon alone. Please contact me. Tell me where you are. Promise me you won’t go alone, Cara. You have to promise me.

  * Holo Message to the _Razor Crest_



I miss you.

  * Holo Message to chain code Dune, Cara



Greef says he doesn’t know where you are. I can’t track you. Please just call and tell me you’re alright. I’m coming, I’ll find you. Just…just call.

____________

She was so tired. It had been more than a year since she had left Din and the child behind. A hard year. At first, throwing herself into the work felt good, but more and more it was the danger that was keeping her sharp. Enough adrenaline and fear was all that could keep her focused, could make her forget.

So one job after another, she took on too much, took too many risks.

She had known going in that taking on Gideon’s operation, even though it was small, was something it would be tough to walk away from.

Honestly, she had got farther than she thought she would. All he had left in the end was more than a dozen dead Stormtroopers outside, his two living guards, and himself.

It would be enough though. The weapon he held in front of him, the darksaber she supposed, pulsed with a mind bending darkness. Her hands were bound behind her back.

It wasn’t as though she had intended to die, but in this moment, she was ready to stop fighting.

And then a small detonator flew through the broken window beside Gideon, shrouding the room in smoke.

She threw herself to the side and out of the way as blaster fire streaked through the haze and she heard the heavy sound of the two remaining Stormtroopers falling to the ground.

As she smoke cleared, she saw him emerge, dark and menacing as he advanced on Gideon who held the strange weapon before him.

She remembered this about Din, his careful and measured movements in combat, the way he seemed to become calmer, steadier, as those around him fell apart.

Gideon, on the other hand, was half hysterical, screaming at Din, spittle flinging from his lips as he swung his weapon wildly, making strange swooping and crackling noises.

She could see Din waiting for his moment. It came when Gideon caught him across the upper arm, the blade not bouncing off the beskar as she half expected, but sinking in.

Din reached out and wrapped his hand around Gideon’s wrist, holding him even as the blade cut deeper in his shoulder. His other hand raised his blaster and fired point blank.

The weapon snapped off as it dropped from Gideon’s lifeless hand. And in a moment, Gideon followed, hitting the ground heavily and laying still.

The silence settled for a long moment before Din walked over to her, slowly crouching in front of her to sweep her tangled hair out of her face.

“You alright?” he asked softly as he pulled a blade out of his boot and cut her bindings.

“You came,” was all she could think to say as he helped her up.

“Always,” was all he said as he helped her limp to the _Crest_.

It wasn’t until she was safely installed in her bunk, which he had never removed, and they had made the jump to hyperspace that he came back to speak to her.

“Move over,” he said, coming to sit beside her on the narrow bunk. They were pressed together hip shoulder to hip in the small space, but she didn’t mind. It felt safe.

“What happened to you Cara?” he asked quietly, the familiarity of sitting next to him, talking to him like this coming back as if the year before hadn’t happened.

“I got lost, I think,” she said damply, letting her head fall against his shoulder.

“Come home,” he said, his voice thick.

She thought about it for a long moment. She thought about the past year, and why she had left.

It hadn’t made a difference, her heart still belonged to him. And she had been frighteningly close to just surrendering to the blackness today. That couldn’t be better than the pain of being next to him when she couldn’t have him.

She’d rather have what she could, she would welcome that pain, now that she truly knew what it was to be without him.

“Yes,” was all she said.


	13. Ain't Good for Nothing

“A gun that’s unloaded and cocked ain’t good for nothing.”

  * John Wayne in True Grit (1969)



It was easier than she had thought it would be to fall back into old patterns. There was still a distance they held between them, but it was just so _good_ to be back here, to see the kid’s face light up when he first saw that she was back.

She should have known that it couldn’t last.

She knew that the kid had made some major strides during the time she was gone. The games he played were no longer simple remotes or puzzles, but intricate kinetic structures that whirled around him as he focused, complex probes that tested reflexes faster than she ever would have thought.

But it was still surprising when, not more than a week after she was back on the _Crest,_ a call came in from Soosyylae.

After the Wookie’s message finished, Din sat in tense silence for a long while before he turned to her.

“Skywalker made contact,” he said, his voice drained of all expression, “he’s sent coordinates, and we’re to bring the kid.”

Without thinking about it, she reached out and clutched his shoulder from where she stood behind him in the cockpit. He reached up and closed his hand over hers, his tension clearly evident.

“I guess it’s time,” she said slowly.

“I just…” his voice hitched, “I just got you back.”

Whatever she wished Din would feel for her, she also knew that there was so much that he _did_ feel. Far more than anyone who didn’t know him well would ever guess. And, for now, it was really only her and the kid that knew him like that. He had just gathered both of them around him again, and she could understand why it hurt to let that go so quickly.

Not that letting the kid go was ever going to be easy.

“We don’t have to go right away,” she suggested.

He shook his head, “this is the Way,” was all he managed.

“This is the Way,” she echoed.

But they both stayed where they were for a long moment before either of them moved.

______________

The kid was clearly excited as they brought the _Crest_ to rest on a landing platform near what looked like an ancient temple. They were far out in the outer rim, well outside of any trade routes, where no one would think to look.

There were a surprising number of people about the place as they walked out of the _Crest_ , ranging from children as small as the kid to a man so ancient that it was hard to believe how quickly he moved across the grass beyond the temple.

A man moved towards them. He was dressed simply and serviceably. He was slight, but something about the way he carried himself made her recognize him instantly as someone who could be a threat if he wanted to.

“Yoda was right,” the young man said with something that sounded like delight as he approached, “his species is adorable when they are young.”

Cara looked over at Din who was communicating a similar level of disconcerted surprise.

“Luke Skywalker,” he said genially, “You must be the Mandalorian Chewie told me about.”

Din shook his outstretched hand cautiously.

“I didn’t know you were bringing anyone else,” he said, a question in his voice as he held out his hand to greet her.

“Cara Dune,” she said, taking his hand. His grip was firm, and there was something of a test in the way he gripped her hand, so she shook it solidly.

He grinned at her, “Dune,” he asked, “Alderaanian family, isn’t it?”

“It was,” she agreed with a nod.

“She was a drop trooper with the Rebellion,” Din said, “The best there is.”

The look Luke sent Din’s way was sharp, and she could tell he knew more than he let on. She was already getting the impression that these Jedi liked their mysteries.

“You carry a lightsaber at your belt,” Luke said, “How did you come by it?”

Din dropped a protective hand to his belt. “It is not a lightsaber,” he said, but did not elaborate at Luke’s expectant silence.

She let out a sigh, “All right boys, can we ease up here?” she asked, “He got it from an ex-Imperial Moff named Gideon. It’s the darksaber. I’m going to assume you know what that is.”

Din shot her a vaguely betrayed look, but she just rolled her eyes. Luke’s expression, on the other hand, was unexpectedly impressed.

“The darksaber,” he said slowly, “I thought it was lost in the great purge of the Mandalorians.”

“It wasn’t,” said Din, reluctantly handing the weapon over to the other man who inspected it closely before turning it on with a click and a hiss.

Luke swept the blade through the air a few times, clearly comfortable with the style of weapon. “You took it from Gideon in battle?” he asked as he turned the weapon off and handed it back.

“Yes,” Din answered shortly as he refastened it to his waist.

“Then you’re…”

“Don’t,” Din cut him off with a sharp look over at her.

She raised an eyebrow. She hoped Din didn’t think she wasn’t going to follow up on this later.

“Ah,” said Luke, looking between the two of them with some amusement. “I see.”

Before she could interject, Luke stepped closer to the pram where the child sat watching him with an intense focus.

“May I?” he asked, and Din nodded and stepped to the side.

Luke reached out, and the child’s small hand reached up to meet his. Their fingers connected, and they just looked at her silently for a long moment. Finally, Luke let out a laugh and stepped back.

“He’s ready,” Luke said, “And I have a feeling he’s going to cause me no end of grief about it.”

“You can,” Din paused, swallowing, “you can speak to him?”

“In a sense, yes,” said Luke, “But now that he’s here, he will likely be able to speak to you before too much longer. He will develop quickly as he learns more about the Force. His species cannot develop properly without it.”

“Is that…usual?” she asked skeptically.

“Far from it,” said Luke, “But Master Yoda has given me some idea of what to expect.”

“Yeah,” she said, reeling a little at the situation, “We met him.”

“What…” Din interrupted brusquely, “What did he say?”

The child looked up at Luke and let out a squawk, raising his little hand again. Luke obligingly reached out to connect with him again.

He smiled as the child communicated with him. “His thoughts are disorganized,” said Luke, “But I can tell that he wants you to know that he loves you. Both of you. And that he is happy to be here. He doesn’t want you to worry and…I don’t know quite what he means, but he doesn’t want you to be, apart? Or alone?”

Din reached out and placed a hand on the kids head, and she couldn’t help running a finger across the top of one ear as he looked up at them curiously.

“Yeah,” Din said to the kid, “Me too.”

The kid burbled excitedly at the discovery that he had been able to communicate something.

“Can we leave the droid,” Din asked abruptly, not taking his eyes off the kid, “It can keep him safe, and he could use it to stay in touch when we go.”

“Go?” asked Luke in surprise, “Sorry, I just assumed you would stay.”

“We read about it,” Cara interjected, “The Jedi take children away from their families to train. The connection is a distraction.”

Luke made a sour face. “They used to,” he said skeptically, “but I don’t think it was right. I grew up with a family that loved me. Those connections, that network, is a strength, not a weakness. The families of all the students here at least visit frequently. Many live and work here. It’s not exactly an easy job to run a place like this, so far out of the way.”

She looked at Din, a growing feeling of excitement crawling up her spine. “We could work sometimes,” she said cautiously, “but come back here?”

He nodded, “We have some credits,” he said to Luke without breaking his gaze at her, “It was for the foundlings, but I have not been able to find what is left of the clan that raised me. It would be put to good use here.”

Luke looked at the two of them appraisingly, “Your skills would be welcome,” he said, “While the Jedi are peacekeepers, they have always been trained to fight. I imagine that you two have much more to teach in that area than I do at the moment. Take your time, no need to decide at once.”

Din tilted his head at her in a silent question, and she smiled.

He turned back to Luke at once.

“We’ll stay.”


	14. New Eras

“New eras don't come about because of swords, they're created by the people who wield them. ”

― Watsuki Nobuhiro

“So what was all that about the darksaber,” she asked as they walked back into the _Crest_ to grab the essentially that they needed for the day.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly.

She just stopped, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, “It’s an old tradition,” he said, “the darksaber is the symbol of leadership on Mandalore. If a Mandalorian takes it in battle, it belongs to them.”

Her jaw dropped, “So you’re, what, the king of Mandalore now?” she asked incredulously, “That is not _nothing_!”

“Mand’alor” he said.

“What?”

“It’s Mand’alor, not king,” she got the distinct impression that he was quite amused at her reaction.

“Shouldn’t you be, you know, ruling?” she asked.

“I don’t want it,” he said firmly, “I’ve sent a message. Someone will be sent to retrieve it.”

“Do you have some sort of formal title?” she asked, warming to the discussion now that she knew it didn’t mean he was about to run off and take over a planet.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Any important rules of etiquette I need to know?” she teased.

“Cara,” he said, quickly becoming exasperated.

“Do I need to kneel before you?” she prodded.

“Only if you want to,” he cut back in a challenging tone.

She swallowed, stunned into silence at the thought. He couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, lunch is being served,” a weedy teenager poked his head up into the _Crests_ hold, “You want to sit in the hall? Or will you both eat somewhere else?” he nodded graciously at Din.

“We’ll sit in the hall,” Din said, abruptly startling her out of the moment, “I’ll eat later, thank you.”

___________

It quickly became apparent that Skywalker’s academy had only just begun. There was hard work to do, clearing out chambers in the old temple, bringing in the necessary tech to make it livable.

After a few days, her shoulders were stiff and sore with the effort of it all.

There was a joy to it, though. The trainees ranged in size and maturity from small children like the kid, to almost adults. Watching Skywalker work with them was fascinating and amazing. The things these kids could do were unbelievable.

And it felt good to work beside Din again, falling back into their old rhythms. There was a feeling of stasis that made it easier to ignore anything but the work and the camaraderie. Neither of them addressed the fact that they had both decided to stay here for the foreseeable future, watch over the kid together, work jobs together.

It would have to be addressed at some point, there was still air that needed to be cleared after the time they had spent apart. But there was plenty of time for that now, and she figured they were both just enjoying this reprieve.

The kid was clearly thrilled with the new location. He worked with Skywalker and the youngest kids in the mornings, but spent the afternoons toddling around after her and Din.

That was how they learned of a new talent of his. They were working together to install a durasteel plate across a cracked section of stone inside the temple when Cara felt a little hand on her ankle. All at once, it was like she was looking through someone else’s eyes, low to the ground and staring directly at a pile of local fruit in a nearby corner, she could feel a hunger that wasn’t her own in her stomach.

As quickly as it came, it passed. She blinked, “Was that you?” she looked down at the kid incredulously, “Are you hungry?”

The kid positively exploded with excitement, bouncing up and down. “Okay, you can have some fruit,” she said, watching the kid in astonishment as he waddled over to the pile.

“What happened?” asked Din.

“He…He _showed_ me. I mean, it was like I saw through his eyes. He was looking at the fruit, he felt hungry.”

“He talked to you,” Din said in amazement, “He communicated.”

A huge grin crossed her face as she nodded, “He touched my ankle,” she said, gesturing to the strip of exposed skin, “Take off your glove!”

Din did so immediately as the child wandered back over, covered in the sticky juice of the fruit, “Hey kid,” Din held out his hand, “You still hungry?”

The kid bounced again and reached out to take Din’s hand. After a moment, Din coughed awkwardly and looked sideways at Cara.

“What did he say?” she asked excitedly.

“He said hello,” said Din, “and thank you,” he nodded at Cara, “And…” he paused for a moment, “He said he wants us to be happy.”

“Aw kid,” Cara said, folding to her knees and pulling the little body close to her despite the stickiness, “If you’re happy, we’re happy.”

Once the kid had discovered this ability, it was like the floodgates had opened. He was constantly reaching up a hand to let them know something he had learned, or show them something interesting he had seen, or tell them he was hungry, or tired, or bored, or happy.

Din took to leaving his gloves off most of the time so the child could reach out for him.

For the most part, this was an incredible development.

It was when he started showing her what _other_ people saw and thought that things started to get a bit complicated.

At first, she couldn’t figure out what was happening. The three of them were lying out under the stars, the child between them, when all of a sudden she was looking at her own profile, and she felt the same _awareness_ that she felt when she looked at Din. It pulled at the feelings she kept buried deep within her, that slow and steady warmth that she knew would never really go away.

She turned and saw that Din was looking at her. The child had shown her what _Din_ was seeing.

She took a deep breath and turned back to the night sky. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself firmly. She had looked at Din like that long before she developed the feelings she had for him now. Honestly, she would be a little offended if Din couldn’t admit that she was attractive.

What she didn’t understand was why the kid was showing it to her, why he _kept_ showing it to her.

Little glances in the hall, a focus on the line of her collarbone as sweat dripped across it, her thighs as she taught some basic self-defense to the older children, the curve of her waist as she stretched after a long day of work.

She didn’t begrudge him this. She was the only woman he realistically _could_ look at here. And he was only human. But it was getting to be too much for her to bear.

Finally, she sought out Skywalker in a moment alone, already aware that a blush was creeping up into her cheeks. She carried the child under one arm as he kept showing her an insect he had seen, something like a butterfly.

“Cara,” Luke said, stopping to speak to her, “Something I can do for you?”

“You can talk to the kid for me,” she said, “He’s developed a bad habit of…showing me things he shouldn’t.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “What sort of things?”

She sighed, resigning herself to the bright red blush “Apparently Mando…watches me sometimes. Its fine, I’m not upset, it doesn’t mean anything. I just want the kid to stop showing me.”

“He _watches_ you?” Luke asked curiously.

Instead of answering, she held the kid out towards him. Luke obliging took the child from her, cradling him in one arm and reaching out the other to grab his hand.

After a moment, a broad grin fell across Luke’s face and his eyes danced with amusement.

“Come on Skywalker,” she said with a groan, “this is embarrassing enough as it is.”

“I think,” said Luke, handing the child back to her, “That you’re going to have to talk to your Mandalorian about this. It’s more of a father-son thing than a Jedi thing.”

“I should have known you were going to say that,” she said dejectedly.

“Buck up Dune,” said Luke in an altogether far too cheerful tone, “You’ve been in far more frightening situations.”

She rolled her eyes at him, muttering obscenities under her breath as she headed back towards the _Crest._

There was not time like the present for painful and awkward conversations.

“Mando,” she hollered over to him where he was working with the oldest kids on a makeshift blaster range, “You got a minute?”

With a nod he left the kids to practice and walked over.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shoving the kid at him, “Your _son_ has an issue, and Skywalker said that it was more a father thing than a Jedi Master thing.”

Din took the child easily, his head at an inquisitive angle.

“Did you know,” she said sharply, because holding onto her irritation seemed the easiest course, “that the kid can show you what _other_ people are seeing?”

“Yes,” he said, “He’s done it before.”

“And,” she went on doggedly, “Did you know that he has developed a habit of showing me what _you_ are seeing.”

Din froze. “No, I did not.”

“It just so _happens_ ,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest, “that he likes to do this when you have a particular type of…focus.”

Din just kept looking at her, as still as she had ever seen him outside of a firefight.

“Look,” she relented, “I get that there’s no one else around here for you to look at, I know it doesn’t mean anything, and frankly I’m a little bit flattered, but could you ask your kid not to show me every time you’re checking me out?”

Din’s shoulders slumped.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said in a low tone, “He thinks he’s helping, but I know that you don’t want…I’ll talk to him.”

She felt like her feet were nailed to the ground, his words spinning around inside her head.

“What,” she swallowed, her throat was suddenly dry, “What don’t I want?”

Din carefully set the child down on the grass, giving him a little push so that he waddled away from them, searching for something more interesting.

“Do we really need to have this conversation again?” he asked, sounding pained.

She could feel her heartrate picking up. Could she really have been this wrong? Over all these years? She had never allowed herself to hope…

“Din,” she said slowly, “When did we have this conversation the first time?”

“That village,” he said, rubbing his hand behind his neck in obvious discomfort, “You kept talking about my helmet,”

“Yeah,” she said carefully, “And then you told me to stop making jokes about it because you didn’t want that with me and I was making it awkward.”

“What?” he said sharply.

“I thought,” she paused, her insides in such turmoil that it took her a moment to find the words, “I thought you were letting me know that you weren’t interested, and that I should back off.”

She winced, as she realized that she had just made it pretty clear that she _was_ interested. Well, she was all in now. And sidestepping the issue had apparently gone very poorly for them.

“That wasn’t what I was saying,” Din’s voice was shaky and he took a step closer to her. “I meant that it hurt, because you were making jokes about the one thing I wanted most in the world. So I told you that it wasn’t a joke to me. And I thought you understood that…”

Her heart was pounding inside of her chest, she felt like she had been sprinting full out for too long.

“I _didn’t_ ,” she said fiercely.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone incredulous, “I’m getting that now.”

“And then I left,” she said, her voice cracking as she understood just how badly she must have hurt him, how badly they had hurt each other.

“And then you left,” he said, hardly any space between them now.

“Well that is…” she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts straight, “That is some new information,” she finished lamely.

“You going to do anything with it?” She could hear the aching vulnerability, the long suppressed hope in his voice, and she knew at once that all this time she had thought they were so far apart, they had always been in the same place.

“Yeah,” she said, a slow smile curving across her lips, “I think I am,” she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him and letting her head fall against his chest plate.

She could hear him let out a long breath, his arms tightening around her waist.

His nearness was singing through her veins, she felt at once as light as a feather and so tethered to him that nothing could move her away.

“I’m scared,” she said in a small whisper, giving voice to some of what was coursing through her, “And happy. It’s weird.”

“Yeah,” he said, a hand coming up to cup the back of her head, “Me too.”

“I can’t marry you,” was what came out next. She regretted it immediately as she felt him tense against her.

“No,” she said at once, tightening her grip, “I just mean…not right now, not right away.”

She felt him relax, “That’s okay,” he said, his ungloved hand running over her hair in a way she found incredibly calming.

“I know what it means,” she went on, “I know that it’s something that can’t ever be undone.” Her stomach tightened, and she wanted to stop, but it was her, and it was him, and if there was any moment to be honest with him, to trust him with all that she was thinking, it was right now.

“I’ve never…I’ve never felt worthy of the way you trust me,” she said, glad that her face was hidden against his chest, “I don’t know how to accept it. I’m just…” she swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I mess things up,” she said, “I feel like I’m just going to mess this up. I already _did,_ I just left…”

“Shhh,” Din cut her off softly, “I messed it up too, but we’re still here, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” she said, his steadiness grounding her as it always did. And really, they knew so much about doing this already, had spent so much time learning each other.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said with such conviction that she could almost believe it.

Even if this was just one moment, she never wanted to leave it, so they just stood there, wrapped around each other, for long slow minutes.

“Din?” she asked finally.

“Hmmm?” she could feel the vibration of his answer.

“What do Mandalorians who aren’t married _do_?”

She could practically _feel_ his raised eyebrow.

“I mean,” she continued, feeling bolder and more herself as the moment settled in, “you can’t exactly kiss me, can you?”

“No _yet_ ,” he corrected her in amusement.

“But there have to be other things?” she pulled back for a moment and blinked up at him innocently.

He let out a low groan, “Cara,” he said warningly, although if she thought she was _afraid_ of those other things, he was in for a surprise.

“Get your bucket head out of the gutter,” she said with a grin, “I mean how do Mandalorians _kiss_?”

He let out a short laugh, and then gently rested his forehead against hers, “Like this,” he said, and she could almost make out the shape of his eyes through his visor. It was intimate in a way she hadn’t expected.

“It’s nice,” she said.

“It is,” he agreed.

They were rudely interrupted by the kid toddling back over to them making excited chirping noises. Cara let her head fall back against his chest plate with a groan.

“Guess those _other things_ will have to wait,” she said, as the kid reached up his arms towards them.

“Not long,” he said in a low voice that sent a thrill deep through her as he reached down to pick up the child, “not if I can help it.”

She knew he could see the heat in her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She smiled, “All right kid,” she said, putting a hand on his head just above Din’s, “what is it that’s so important?”

“I can hazard a guess,” said Din dryly.

“Oh yeah?” she asked curiously.

“It was the first thing the damn kid said to me,” he said fondly.

“What, that he wanted you to be happy?” she cast her mind back to that moment.

“He was a bit more specific,” Din said, “He wanted _us_ to be happy. Together.”

“Oh you little _monster_ ,” she said to the child with a wide grin, “You’ve been playing matchmaker this whole time, haven’t you!”

The child squirmed and giggled and closed his eyes, sending out a wave of love and contentment and almost smug satisfaction that brought tears to the corner of her eyes.

“I suppose we’ll have to forgive him for it,” Din said evenly.

“Just this once.”


	15. Talk Low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for my next trick, I earn that explicit rating (please be forewarned).

“Talk low, talk slow and don’t say too much.”

  * John Wayne



She saw him out of the corner of her eye as he walked up, leaning against the thick trunk of a nearby tree as she worked with the older students.

She didn’t need the kid to tell her what he was looking at either. She stifled a grin as she squared off against one of the students. She knew full well that he liked to watch her like this, in her leggings and tank top, taking the young Jedi to the mat again and again until they learned.

“Once more,” she said, “You’ve got this.”

She turned her focus to the student in front of her. They were getting better quickly. They didn’t have to rely on strength and muscle memory alone. Conditioning was important, but the more they learned about the Force the harder it was to beat them.

Still doable though.

She let the girl up from where she held her pinned face down. “Good,” she said, “I had to work for it that time.”

The girl grumbled, but Cara knew that she understood that it was high praise.

“All right,” she called, “That’s it for today.”

The trainees fell into conversation as they drifted away.

She turned to face Din as he drifted closer.

“They’re getting better,” he said appreciatively, as if his gaze wasn’t focused somewhere distinctly south of her collarbone.

“Hmmm,” she agreed easily, as if she wasn’t watching the long lines of him as he moved towards her. “You want to go grab something for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” he said steadily, and she could feel the heat pooling low in her belly, “You?”

“Not hungry for dinner,” she said with a challenging eyebrow.

He grabbed her wrist with a growl, pulling her along behind him towards the _Crest_ , which was the most private place to be had in an academy filled with nosey teenagers with magic powers.

She grinned freely as she followed along. She loved this part of him. She loved how easy these _other things_ came to them. It was the same sort of intensity and connection they had when they fought together.

The ramp had barely closed behind them before she found herself shoved against the bulkhead, Din’s hands at her hips, a knee between her legs, and his helmet resting heavily against her shoulder.

“Kriff Cara,” he muttered, a hand snaking over her ass and grabbing her under one hip, hiking her hips tighter against him so she could feel him hard against her, “Want you.”

Never particularly talkative, she liked how he became terse and quiet when he was with her, like all his focus was on her and he had none left for any words.

“Yes,” she breathed out, a hand reaching down between them to cup him through the thick material of his pants.

This part was still new, still unfamiliar and exciting.

“Hmmpph,” he let out a low noise, pulling her hand away abruptly, “Not here.”

He tossed off his chest plate and pauldrons, the only armor he still wore, and unceremoniously tossed her over his shoulder and moved towards her cabin.

“Brute,” she said, laughing as he tossed her down on the bunk.

“Mandalorian,” he said succinctly as he braced himself above her.

She smiled up at him wickedly, “I hear they never miss a target.”

He let out a groan that set her toes curling and, bracing a knee between her legs, scrambled at the hem of her tank top. She pulled it up over her head, tossing it to the floor, before unhooking her bra and letting it fall.

Din let out a hissing breath above her, his ungloved hands trailing down her ribcage reverently.

“Your turn,” she said, feeling the heat that was pooled low in her belly creeping upwards.

He didn’t wait for her help, just unfastened the fabric of his top at the back and tossed it aside. He leaned over her again, his forehead resting gently against hers. He was always so careful with this, the heavy metal helmet never so much as reddening her skin.

Their bare chests were pressed together and she could feel his heart beating wildly against her. Her hands dropped to his waist, pulling at his buckle. He finally gave in and moved off her for a moment to drop the rest of his clothes in a heap before crouching at her feet and peeling her leggings off of her.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice soft and low, before pressing the whole length of himself against her, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

It didn’t unnerve her any more, the contrast between his helmet and his bare skin. It was just part of him, like the way his belly jumped as her fingers swept over it, or the way her name sounded on his lips.

She gave him a shove so that he fell to the side, letting her reach down and wrap her fingers around the hard length of him.

It was thrilling to have him like this, completely under her control, just as she was under his. He jumped under her touch, pressing his hips towards her.

It was still a negotiation, this part of their relationship. It hadn’t come slowly exactly, but piece by piece. She shifted so she could push him flat against the bunk, her hand in the centre of his chest and her hips astride his. She felt powerful like this, and she could feel him nudging against her entrance, already dripping with her arousal.

She shifted her hips backwards experimentally, catching the tip of his cock between her thighs.

“Cara,” he said, he hands at her hips stilling her movements.

“No?” she asked, looking at him carefully.

He shook his head, and she swung one leg over so that she was pressed all down his side, her hand reaching for him again, pulling slowly from root to tip.

“Is there a why?” she asked, watching him as she spread the slippery liquid that pooled at his tip.

“Yes,” he said tightly, his abdomen clenching as he thrust upwards into her fist.

“Which is?” she calmly prompted, even as she saw a flush creep up from his collarbone and disappear under his helmet.

“Because,” he said through panting breaths, “you are _impossible_ Cara Dune,” he moved so quickly she barely knew what happened before she found herself on her back, his hand between her thighs, searching out her clit with unerring accuracy.

“Because I’m going to see your face with my own eyes the first time I’m inside you,” he fairly growled at her, “Because you’re going to see mine.”

She let out a whimper as two of his broad fingers slipped inside her his thumb still pressed against her clit. She was going to have to rethink how much she liked the quiet thing if this was the sort of talk he had in him.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, feeling her orgasm approaching like a freight train, “Please, yes, yes,” she was aware that she was babbling incoherently but not caring. Din was infuriatingly good at this, like he was at most things.

“Come for me,” he whispered low, his helmet cool against her cheek.

And she couldn’t help but obey.

She cried out, tensing and fluttering under him as the waves of pleasure swept through her.

“Good?” he asked after a moment when her breathing settled.

“Don’t get cocky,” she said with a grin, and she pushed him on his side again.

She took his hand, now coated in her arousal, and wrapped it around his achingly hard cock, pumping his hand up and down once or twice to spread the wetness before replacing it with her own.

She didn’t need to see his eyes to know that they were focused on her with laser like intensity. She curled herself into his side, sucking a bruising kiss into his chest as she worked her hand until he made that little gasping noise that told her he was close.

“It’s going to be so good,” she said against his chest, “when I can kiss you properly, feel you inside me, see your face.”

He let out a stuttered groan and pulsed in her hand, coating her fingers in long spurts until he settled, spent, against the bed.

She reached for the floor and wiped her hand on her already dirty top before curling into him again and pulling a sheet over them as they lay in silence for a moment.

“Good?” she said cheekily after a moment.

“ _Yes_ ,” said Din emphatically, making her grin.

“I will, won’t I?” he asked after another moment.

She propped her head up on her hand and looked at him inquisitively.

“Kiss you,” he said, the tentative vulnerability in his tone tugging sharply at her heart, and the unspoken words _and marry you, and show you my face_ hanging between them.

“Yes,” she said, with as much confidence as she could, “When we’re ready, if you still want…”

“Cara,” he said, “I will always _want_.”

She buried the silly smile that grew, along with the warmth in her gut, at his words by pressing her cheek against his bare chest.

“I love you,” the words came out without much thought or planning, like they simply could no longer be stopped.

His arm tightened around her, “Love you too,” he murmured, “Have for so long.”

“When?” she asked, caught up in this hazy spell of afterglow and confessions.

“I first knew on Coruscant,” he said, his fingers trailing across her back, “You woke up that morning and my sigil was pressed into you face.”

“I remember that,” she said, “You were weird about it.”

“I was having an existential crisis,” he said with good humor, “I saw my mark on you and knew, right in that instant, that I wanted it to _stay_ there, wanted you in my clan.”

“Oh,” she said, stunned, “Well it would be a hell of a distinguishing mark if it were permanent,” she mused.

She could feel his chest shaking with laughter, “I don’t mean literally.”

“Maybe somewhere less obvious,” she thought out loud.

“Here,” Din pressed his fingers gently against her shoulder blade.

“Yeah,” she agreed easily, “That would work.”

“Hmmm,” Din hummed at her, clearly pleased at the idea. “What about you? When did you…”

“When did I know?” she finished, “It’s hard to say exactly when it happened, because I spent so long denying it. But even when you first left Nevarro, it never felt _right_ without you.”

Din made a low noise of agreement.

“I didn’t admit it until you gave me that Alderaanian illustration,” she said.

Din let out a low whistle, “That’s some case of denial you had going on there Dune. At least I admitted it to myself, even if I didn’t have the nerve to say anything.”

“Oh shut up,” she said, “I had only recently learned you weren’t a monk! And I was so sure you didn’t want me.”

“I did though,” he said warmly, “want you.”

“and now?” she asked, pressing her hips against his thigh.

“Always,” he said as he rolled towards her.


	16. A Thousand Miles

Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one.

  * Japanese proverb



Life moved forward at a steady pace. They worked with Luke’s students, training them to protect themselves, to defend others.

They watched the kid grow, learning more and more about his powers, his shared thoughts getting clearer and more focused by the day.

They worked so that supplies could keep coming to the fledgling academy. No guild jobs, as it could bring too much attention to their location. Instead they went back to being the backwater mercenaries they had been before.

It was a good life, a whole life, with a home and a family and the occasional adventure. Things that Cara had never thought she could have again.

She tried not to think too much about it, to just enjoy it, as if acknowledging it would make it all disappear. It was a constant fear. She knew Din was aware of it, and she knew he wouldn’t push.

But she did _want_. She wanted to see the face of the man she knew so well, wanted to know him in this last way left a mystery to her. And my _god_ she wanted to have sex with him.

But still she waited.

She just wasn’t quite sure what it was she was waiting for.

________

They were running through a labyrinthine town, the ancient roads winding, curving, and splitting in unexpected ways. They had been hired to distract a local militia so some refugees could slip out unnoticed.

They had been a little _too_ successful, and were now being pursued, two dozen militia soldiers hot on their heels.

“Boost me,” Cara said, raising her chin to the roofline.

With hardly a break in his stride, Din cupped his hands, she took one running step into them, and he tossed her high enough that she could scramble onto the roof.

Din kept moving forward, making as much noise as he could.

Sure enough, the soldiers followed, splitting up through the twisted streets. She moved quietly from rooftop to rooftop picking them off in ones and twos, always before they could get a shot off at Din.

Until she heard the cracking of tiles behind her. She whirled around, her first shot taking out one of the three men who had got wise and climbed up to the roofs.

“Cara,” she heard Din below her, and with a grin, she dropped backwards off the roof, much to the wide eyed surprise of her pursuers.

Din caught her easily, and they sprinted onwards, realizing after a few moments that they were no longer being pursued.

She let out a breathless laugh as they jogged back around towards the _Crest_ , planning to follow the refugees to their new home and make sure they weren’t followed.

“Having fun?” Din asked with amusement.

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she said with a wink.

When they arrived to meet up with the refugees, a celebration had already started, and a huge cheer went up as they walked into the warm circle of campfires.

Din was always reluctant to accept such straightforward praise, so she fielded it for him gladly, answering questions and accepting drinks, pulling him along beside her until they finally found themselves left in peace beside a dying fire.

“That was a fun trick,” she said eventually.

“Hmmm?” Din questioned.

“Calling at me on the roof. You should have seen the look on those guys faces when I just dropped.”

Din let out a short laugh. “To be fair,” he said, “I didn’t know you were going to pitch off the roof backwards either.”

“Seemed expedient” she said with a shrug, “I knew you’d catch me.”

His armor was warm under her cheek in the glow of the fire, and it was only reluctantly that she allowed him to pull her to her feet and towards the _Crest._ It was time to go home.

She sat in the cockpit, watching hyperspace pass her by for a long while after they made the jump. Her mind was caught on the events of the day, returning again and again to the feeling of falling, knowing she would be caught.

What the hell was she waiting for?

She trusted him implicitly. Him, the child, the temple. It was home. What more was she waiting for? She knew by now that he was not going to grow tired of her, set her aside.

He could take his helmet off, and she was no longer worried that she was unworthy of that trust.

A slow smile grew on her lips, and she sat in the moment, holding it to her like a warm blanket.

“You coming to bed?” Din asked, his head at the top of the ladder down to the hold.

“In a bit,” she said, “Come sit with me for a moment.”

He came to lean against the edge of her chair, his gaze focused out the window like hers.

“You know,” she said, biting her lip to hide a smile, “You’ve never actually asked me.”

“Asked you what?” he said absently.

“To marry you,” she looked up at him with a grin, recognizing his sudden stillness. It seemed like it was how all of the most important moments in their lives began.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly.

She waited for a moment for him to continue.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

She blinked in surprise as he left the cockpit and headed for the fresher.

Well, that had not gone as expected. She didn’t think he’d changed his mind, so she couldn’t think why he would have reacted that way.

Was there some sort of traditional way to go about this? Had she broken some sort of rule? And why hadn’t he ever _told_ her if there was something specific that needed to be done.

Confusion and frustration curled around in her mind until she heard him return to the cockpit behind her.

He was dressed comfortably, just loose pants and a shirt, no armor other than his helmet. He smelled like dampness and soap.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, not looking back at him.

“What?” Din asked in surprise.

“Well you just _left_ ,” she said, irritation creeping into her voice.

“How are we still so _bad_ at this,” Din said, shaking his head. “Cara,” he moved to crouch beside her and took her hand, “If I’m about to take my helmet off for you, I’d prefer not to do it with a few days’ worth of sweat under it. I only get to make one first impression.”

She held her breath for a moment, a feeling like champagne bubbles running under her skin.

“That is what you meant?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” she said, squeezing his hand, “But you know it doesn’t matter to me, right? I’d still love you even if you never took it off.”

“Still,” he said with a warm smile, and pulled her to her feet.

“So I guess vanity doesn’t go against your creed then,” she teased, her hands shaking under his.

“Cara,” he said in a familiar tone of amused exasperation, “You ready to marry me?”

“Yes,” she said, “But I don’t know the words.”

“Just repeat after me,” he said, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, her hands held steady in his. The familiar position was grounding, and she drew a deep breath.

“We are one,” he began, “whether we are together or apart.”

“We are one,” she repeated, her eyes locked on his visor, “whether we are together or apart.”

“We will share everything.”

“We will share everything.”

“And we will raise our children as warriors.”

“And we will raise our children as warriors.”

“That’s it?” Cara said in surprise after he fell silent.

“That’s it,” said Din, pulling his head back from her.

“So I can?” she lifted a still shaking hand to the edge of his helmet.

“Yes,” he said.

She reached up with both hands, grasped the sides of his helmet, and pulled it off.

For a moment, all she could do was look at him, her eyes moving so quickly across his features that it was hard to take in the whole.

His warm brown hair was dark and tousled. There were a few lines running across his forehead, and the creases at the corner of his eyes told her that he smiled often, even though he was looking at her seriously now, his dark eyes surrounded with long lashes and strong brows focused on her intently.

She reached up and ran a finger over the bridge of his nose, the sharp line clearly having been broken at least once. She trailed her fingers down under the rough growth along his upper lip and across his jawline, pressed a thumb against his soft bottom lip.

“Thank god,” she finally said.

And for the first time she saw him raise one eyebrow in a question, an expression she was intimately familiar with even though she had never seen it before.

“I mean, it really wouldn’t have mattered, but it doesn’t hurt that you’re this handsome under there.”

His serious expression lifted into a grin, pulling at the lines around his eyes and melting away all of the walls she had ever built around her heart.

“Now kiss me already, would you?” she said, tilting her face up towards him.

He wrapped a hand around her waist, the other cupping her cheek, and carefully pressed his lips against hers.

The moment her lips parted with a gasp, _carefully_ was no longer an option.

She pressed against him with something like desperation, opening her mouth under his, her hand fisting in his soft hair. He kissed her breathless, relentlessly, his hands gripping her with an almost painful strength.

Finally, they had to break apart, gasping for air.

“There’s no _way_ that was your first kiss,” she said as she caught her breath.

“I’ve had a long time to think about it,” he said, resting his forehead against hers again, but this time without the helmet between them.

“It’s still nice,” she mused, settling into the familiar position, her hands tracing aimless lines across his lower back.

“It is,” he echoed.

She pulled back to look at him again, his face at once new and strange and deeply familiar. She gently placed her fingers against his cheek, exploring the new territory.

“Cara,” he said in a choked voice.

A shiver ran down her spine and she dropped her hand to look at him.

“I want you,” he said, and she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Yes,” she kissed, her belly clenching in anticipation.

They fairly stumbled down the ladder out of the cockpit and into her bunk, which was closest. They moved quickly, with shaking hands, any thought of taking this slowly completely forgotten as they unceremoniously shucked their clothing and tumbled onto the bunk.

It was intoxicating, being able to look in his eyes as he looked at her. There was a reverence in his expression that was humbling, and terrifying, and exciting all at once.

“Is it different,” she said, her hands gripping his hips as he was propped above her, “Without the visor in the way?”

Din nodded solemnly, “Clearer,” he said, ducking his head to press a kiss to her collarbone, “Like looking at the sun,” he moved lower, his mouth and tongue drawing a path down her torso that raised gooseflesh.

“Enjoying yourself?” she could hear how breathless her voice was, even as she teased. He propped his chin on her belly and looked up at her with an almost boyish grin.

“Immensely,” he said, “I’ve waiting so long to do this.”

“Do wha…” she started, but cut herself off with a gasp as his tongue reached her damp folds and drew a line across her entrance, “Oh!” she cried in surprise.

He paused for a moment, looking up at her in question. She nodded, unable to speak as he turned his focus back to his work.

He knew her reactions so well already, and was using that knowledge to great effect with the new tools he had available to him. He slid his familiar fingers inside of her, his tongue sweeping across her clit with slow and persistent accuracy.

It took only moments before she could feel herself on the edge, her hips pushing up against his mouth and her breath coming in short gasps, “Din,” she said, half moan, half warning, and then his lips closed around her clit and she was gone, her fingers pulling at his hair in a way that had to be painful but he didn’t move from where he was until she stilled.

He wiped his mouth against her thigh as he crawled up the bunk, searching her face as her eyes blinked open.

“Good?” he asked.

And she had to laugh, “You know it was,” she said, gripping his arms, wrapping a leg around his waist, and flipping them over in one smooth motion.

“My turn now,” she said, a hand in the middle of his chest holding him down as she shifted down his body.

“Later,” he said, catching her arm and stopping her descent, “I won’t last. I need to…I want to be inside you.”  
  


Cara blew out an overheated breath, the blood pulsing between her legs. Without a word, she shifted so their hips lined up and she could feel his cock against her entrance.

“Yes?” she asked, her eyes locking with his, the feeling both new and incredibly familiar.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed, reaching between them to guide himself into her as she slowly lowered her hips.

It was an effort to stop her eyes from fluttering closed at the feel of him, hot and thick and stretching her just to the right side of pleasure / pain. But she wanted to see, wanted to watch his eyes as he filled her, wanted him to see her face as she took him in.

It was a long moment until he was fully seated inside of her, and both of them were pulling in gasping breaths.

“ _Oh_ ,” was the only sound that came out of her.

Din’s wordless moan sounded like agreement as his hips pressed up once, twice, desperate to move.

Her hand still braced against his chest, she began to move her hips in an achingly slow rhythm, drawing a gasp from both of them.

It was too much, it was everything, and her arms was shaking so badly that she fell against his chest, the movement of her hips getting faster and faster as their breaths and gasps fell against each other’s faces.

“Cara,” he breathed, “please, I can’t…” his hips were twitching at the end of every long stroke and she could tell he was close.

So was she, riding on the edge of her orgasm, moments away from letting go.

“Yes,” she answered his half spoken question, rolling without any grace so he could brace himself above her and reaching between them to touch herself where they were joined.

He thrust forward with force, with abandon, his control slipping as he grasped at her leg and pressed her knee up against her chest, his cock hitting her somewhere deep and electric.

She cried out his name as he pounded into her once, twice more, and then she felt her release like a wave crashing over her. She almost missed the moment where he came apart above her, the expression on his face as he came something she would never, ever forget.

They lay joined together, their sweaty skin sticking to each other as they gasped for breath.

“Well,” she said finally, “That was…I mean…I can’t even…” she fumbled for words.

“ _Yes_ ,” Din agreed with her breathlessly.

She shifted, a low gasp drawn from her lips as he slipped out of her, and arranged herself against his side in a familiar pose. Only now, his chin rested warm against the top of her head and her cheek notched perfectly against his shoulder.

“We got _married_ ,” she said incredulously after a moment.

“Wife,” he said against her hair.

“Husband,” she echoed, propping her chin on his chest so she could look at him. She reached out her fingers, finding herself drawn to this tactile exploration of his face, smoothing his hair and learning the texture of his cheeks.

“It’s just a face,” he said, half embarrassed, turning to catch her fingers and press them to his lips.

“It’s _your_ face,” she said adamantly, “And it’s a really nice face to look at.”

He smiled at her again, and the way it changed his expression was fascinating to her. He was older than her, she knew that, but when he smiled she could so clearly see the boy he must have been.

“Besides,” she reclaimed her fingers and went back to her explorations, “You’ve had years to stare at my face. I need to catch up.”

His smile was soft and indulgent as he looked back at her, “I’m never going to stop looking, so you never will.”

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him, “Maybe I’ll wear the helmet for a while then,” she said, reaching halfheartedly to see if she could find it where they had left it on the floor of her cabin, “I think I’d make a pretty good Mandalorian.”

The noise the escaped Din was indecipherable, but also eloquent. She could feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“Oh yeah?” she said mischievously, “That a thing for you?”

He shrugged easily, “Might be worth looking into,” his tone was dangerous as he pulled her across his lap.

“Already?” she asked, surprised and impressed at his stamina.

“Always.”


	17. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! I am so so grateful to everyone who has commented, left kudos, and read this! Moving into a new fandom can be scary but you all are so lovely and welcoming! Come and find me on tumblr (@imogenpenn) where I basically do nothing but post about my favorite warrior babes :) A special shoutout to Name1, Lady_Vibeke, Sashas_Fierceness, gerentiana, biblioworm, NiCad, Perlz, wkpx911, scareltt2u, imaginedragonsfly, Riana1, tipthewink, Nonyalv, The_A_Team_Life_1119MeetMeInThe Woods, Sarai113, HoldingHands (rrmerlan), Wolfy22, DrowsyMaggie, and skyereads who have been following and commenting on this fic as it went and kept me writing and posting!

“I can’t afford to hate anyone. I don’t have that kind of time.”

\-- Akira Kurosawa」(“Ikiru,” 1952).

The light spilling in from the hall and the sound of the door to their bedroom opening awoke Din and Cara at once. Ten years of living, working and training with Skywalker and his Jedi may have left them older, but they were still sharp.

“Buir,” the child’s small voice croaked the Mando’a word for both father and mother at them, “Something’s wrong.”

They were out of bed, dressed and armored in moments, following their child into the hallway with weapons drawn. Although he spoke aloud more and more these days, he didn’t often elaborate.

They saw Skywalker the moment they reached the great hall.

“Luke,” Cara called to him, causing him to turn his head and stride towards them, “What’s happening?”

“It’s Ben,” Luke said, the pain evident in his voice. He hadn’t been the same since Ben Solo had turned away from his teachings. “He’s coming, and he’s bringing the First Order with him.”

She and Din looked at each other sharply. They had expected that it couldn’t last forever, their little pocket of peace in the corner of the galaxy. Not when it felt like the Empire was rising all over again.

“Where are we making our stand,” Din said, the calm of battle falling over him immediately.

“You’re not,” said Luke, “You can’t face what’s coming. I need you to take the children on the _Crest_ and get far away from here before any of the ships arrive.”

Din looked at Luke for a long moment. Even though Luke had never seen his face under the helmet, the Jedi had a way of seeing through people anyways. Din looked over at her, and she nodded firmly.

If Ben Solo was coming, it was something the Jedi had to face. The darksaber had long since been claimed by a Mandalorian named Sabine Wren, but even if they had a weapon that could stand against a lightsaber, they didn’t have what the Jedi had.

“Contact us once it’s over,” Cara said, taking Luke’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

He nodded at her, but he looked uncertain in a way that caused an old fear of loss and destruction to rear its head.

It was easier to focus on the necessities, loading the child and fourteen of the youngest trainees onto the _Crest_. They were quiet and obedient in a way that other children their age, in their late childhood and early teens, wouldn’t have been.

The older students and the grown adults that Luke had trained were gathering near the landing platform. They looked powerful and calm, and while she feared for them, she also knew their strength. She had trained them herself.

“We good?” Din shouted at her from the cockpit of the _Crest_ as she closed the hold.

“Go!” she shouted back at him, lurching against the bulkhead and lifted off. She climbed up the ladder and barely had time to sit down before they made the jump to hyperspace.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes sharp on the instruments just as his were, but seeing no sign that they were being followed.

“Empty space,” he said, “We can figure out our next move from there or wait until…”

The kid, who was sitting in the cockpit with them, let out a cry of pain and panic she had never heard before.

“What is it ad'ika?” Cara held out a hand to him, the child still more comfortable communicating through touch than words. She was overwhelmed with flashes of terror and darkness that made her cry out just as the child had.

“Cara,” Din looked at them both in a panic, “What…?”

He was cut off as one cry followed by another rose up from the hold.

They slid down the ladder in a hurry, Cara reaching for one of the oldest children.

“What is it?” she asked, the feeling of darkness still lingering in her bones.

“They’re _dying_ ,” the child whispered in a panic. “It’s all gone.”

Her hand fell to her side limply.

It was happening again.

“No,” she whispered, “No…No, I can’t…”

Din caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Hey, I’ve got you okay? I’m here, the kid is here, we got the children out, I need you to focus, okay?”

She swung her eyes up to where she knew he was looking at her behind his visor, willing her breathing to slow and her panic to subside.

She nodded. Looking back to the scared and solemn faces of the children who now depended on them.

“The First Order will come for them,” she said shakily, trying to focus on coming up with a _plan_ instead of thinking about those they had left behind, or what would become of Hennix, Tai and Voe who had been off planet when the First Order came.

He nodded, “Where in the galaxy could we possibly keep them safe? We could hide them on Nevarro for a while, but…”

“Nowhere,” Cara said, a crazy idea growing, “Nowhere in _this_ galaxy.”

Din looked at her for a long moment, following her train of thought like he always did. “Plot a course from Jedha past Csilla.”

“Two years in hyperspace,” she finished. “We’ll need a bigger ship. And supplies.”

“We’ll finally be able to get rid of all those credits weighing us down,” said Din dryly.

“The guild will help us, keep us hidden on Nevarro while we gather what we need.”

“Yes.”

Once the decision had been made, they moved quickly.

Keida Telsh, who had been in control of the Guild since Greef passed a few years ago, didn’t ask questions, just helped them pull in every favor they had to get themselves a Mon Calmari cruiser that could make the trip and supplies for well over two years, to be safe.

They gave her the _Crest_ , knowing it would be left in good hands, even though it was heartbreaking to leave the ship behind.

All in all, it took less than a week before they were ready to go. The children, mature beyond their years, had pitched in without complaint or question. They were all seated calmly in the central chamber of the cruiser, located behind the cockpit, as they arrived at Jedha.

She was surprised to see Din without his helmet as he walked up behind her where she sat plotting their first jump. Two weeks at hyperspace before they would drop out for just a moment and move on.

“The kids…” she said with concern.

“Are clan now,” he said easily, “our foundlings.”

She smiled at him, he could still surprise her sometimes.

“Guess so,” she said, reaching over her shoulder to take his hand where it rested behind her.

“Ready for the next adventure?” she asked, her hand on the lever ready to make the jump to hyperspace.

“Always.”

THE END


End file.
